The Shadows of the South
by Fawnfire
Summary: The darkest enemies may soon become Araluen's greatest allies as Halt and Gilan are thrown into a vicious battle to save all of Araluen. EPILOGUE ADDED! 2\20\10! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**This is a revised edition as of April 1st, seriously. Please read and Review. **

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T**_all pine trees towered high into the night sky, illuminated by the full moon that hung above the forest, casting deep shadows that seemed to creep threw the trees. An ominous silence rested over the forest, only to be broken by the distinctive sound of horses hooves scuffling the dirt path they trotted along on.

A small carriage, being pulled along by two brutish looking stallions, tottered along a rarely used path that weaved through the trees. Marching alongside the rickety carriage were a handful of highly skilled knights, armed with heavy broadswords strapped to their waists and round bucklers slung across their backs. Emblazoned on each buckler was the mark of a lord.

Each of the knights carried a torch, and the orange glow of the flames held the grim darkness at bay, but only for the moment.

The shadows seemed to slink and slither through the trees, almost as if they had a life of there own. It set the small caravan on edge, there was no telling what might be lurking in the unforgiving forest from where they stood.

A night owl's hoot sounded from high in the trees, followed by a threatening howl. The baleful sound echoed through the trees, then seemed to drift off into the night, fading away to nothing more than an inaudible whisper. As the sound died away shadowy figures sprang from the trees.

The Knights froze momentarily, startled and caught off guard. It was a mistake to be regretted. The attackers wasted no time, they charged towards the Knights, taking them by storm with keen edged daggers.

"Ambush!" The terrified cry of the Knight was choked with fear, the man fought to draw his sword from the scabbard at his hip as one of the cloaked figures raced towards him. The broadsword rasped across the scabbard with a metallic hiss. The knight raised his sword high above his head and slung the weapon in a short arc at his approaching attacker.

With a ghost like grace the shadowy attacker dodged sideways and quickly flicked the sharp edged dagger out at the broadsword, knocking it away with a ear rattling clang. The knight fumbled backwards, stumbling over his own feet and dropping his weapon. His gaze rose slowly to meet that of his attackers. The cowl of a dark cloak was pulled around the attackers head, and the face and neck were obscured by a wreath of night. Only the dark eyes of the figure were visible.

Those dark eyes held a blazing, bitter anger.

There was no hesitation from the phantom like attackers, they finished off the knights, laying them to waste with practiced ease. They severed the horses harnesses, sending the startled beasts barreling off into the night. The torches of the knights were kicked into the dust, their light extinguished to nothing more than black ashes.

The last flame died away, darkness as thick and deep as the sky was broad settled over the forest.

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"_**H**_ow far now Ranger?"

Gilan sighed at the tall knight mounted beside him on a sturdy white battle horse. The muscular knight had to have asked Gilan that same question at least a thousand times that sunny morning.

"Not too much further now Roland." Gilan replied, giving Roland a sidelong glance that was dominated by spite.

The scorching hot journey from Meric fief to Redmont left the small traveling party rather irritable. Along with Roland there were ten highly capable knights trailing restlessly behind Gilan. The small group of men had traveled all morning across the parched highway of the King, moving at a steady pace through the unwavering heat. As the broiling day dragged on, so did the knights, and Gilan hoped desperately they would at least reach Redmont before nightfall.

In truth, Gilan was overly anxious to get to Redmont, for he hadn't been let on to know much about the group of warriors he was leading. He'd only been told that the knights would need a guide as they made there way to the castle of Redmont. It roused his curiosity, surely a group of well trained knights could find there way from one castle to the next without too much trouble? Not to mention that there was hardly a need for so many knights in Redmont, unless, of course their was something else going on that required a rather hefty force of warriors.

Either way, Gilan was eager to know more about what was happening in Redmont, and he planned to find out exactly what with the help of his former mentor.

Suddenly Gilan was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of rapidly approaching hoof beats, the startled Ranger turned to see a well built man with sandy blonde hair. He was mounted on a tall brown battle horse, racing towards Gilan. The knight had bright blue eyes and a wide grin as he reined in beside the Ranger.

The Ranger couldn't suppress a grin at the cheerful face beside him. "I didn't think you'd make it" he murmured to the Knight.

"Now why in the world would the Battle master of Meric fief miss out on an opportunity like this?" The knight told Gilan as he caught his breath. "It's not everyday that us knights get to go charging into other fiefs you know." A wide grin spread across the mans face as he spoke.

"I'm just glad you made it Cedric." Gilan replied coyly, but Cedric hardly seemed to notice as he stared at the musty dirt path in front of them.

Ahead the path widened broadly, and atop a small hill ahead stood the castle of Redmont, it's tall towers glimmering red in the dying sunlight.

At the sight of the magnificent castle Gilan eagerly nudged Blaze forward, sending the bay horse into a light gallop. Behind the Ranger, the knights of Meric fief followed suit. After several minutes of hard riding the warriors had reached the castle of Redmont. Their pace slowed dramatically as the last bit of light died away beyond the horizon.

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**Please Read and Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is the revised version of Chapter 2.**

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**_I_**t only took a few minutes to reach the elegant draw bridge of castle Redmont at the nimble gallop that Gilan led. As he slowed Blaze to a placid trot the small group of knights were greeted by the hearty call of a Redmont knight.

Across the bridge a rather stocky looking man, dressed in a well polished suit of armor and wearing a broad smile as the knights of Meric crossed the lengthy drawbridge.

"Greetings Knights of Meric! Glad you made it here before night fall!"

Cedric returned the kind words with a cheerful smile of his own, admiring the lively demeanor of the knight. The Battlemaster had completely forgotten the hard day of riding as he took lead of the knights, leading them into the darkening courtyard.

The courtyard was full of life. Commoners moved along peacefully, going about their business with a courteous disposition, guards proceeded to make there rounds through out the castle courtyard, trading kind greetings with cordial commoners. Many of the commoners voiced their own regards to the knights of Meric as they went about their day, and as Cedric returned the salutations. Gilan noticed the unwavering smile that had consumed his features.

"You seem to like Redmount." Gilan murmured softly.

Cedric gave the Ranger a look of deep confusion. "What makes you think that?"

The small group of knights made there way to the lofty stables of the Redmont castle, wasting no time they left the kindly stable hands to tend for their exhausted battle horses. Unlike the knights, Gilan stayed behind to care for Blaze, he unsaddled the Ranger horse and rubbed the bay down. Gilan patted Blaze one last time before he made his way to the Baron's tower.

Cedric was waiting near the entrance to the high tower, chatting in joyful tones with the guards on duty at the door to the magnificent tower. Gilan moved towards him silently, as a Ranger Gilan had assumed the mysterious and dark demeanor that seemed to pursue all Ranger's. Cedric hadn't known that Gilan was standing next to him until he felt the slightest tap on his shoulder.

The burly knight turned to Gilan, a cheerful grin still dominating his tan face. Cedric's smile faded as he met the solemn gaze of the Ranger. He far welled the guards swiftly before he led the way up the statuesque tower.

The stone steps matched that of the castle, torches lit along the wall illuminated the elegant staircase. After only a short bit of trekking up the steps the two reached a large wooden door, the heavy wood stood on iron hinges and at the moment, the door was closed.

Wit a gusty sigh Cedric leaned forward to gently knock on the door. A moment went by before the booming reply of Baron Arald sounded from just beyond the door.

"Come in."

The call was slightly muffled by the door, but not enough to leave the worn travelers standing in the stairway. Cedric opened the door and stepped into the room, with Gilan following close behind.

The Baron's office was a rather large room, with a window to the left of the heavy oak wood desk. The shutters were open, letting in the scarce light offered by the twilight sky. From the window the trees of the forest were easily visible, masses of green pines rose from the ground, creating a breathtaking scenery. On the other side of the room a red satin curtain separated the Baron's sleeping chamber from his work space. Baron Arald looked up from his large oak wood desk. Covered in paper, it looked as if the Baron was currently at work sorting through and completing some of the grueling work that made up his desk.

The Baron himself was a slightly portly man, with brown hair and kind eyes. His hair was neatly combed, and his beard was of the same style. In all, Baron Arald was a highly professional looking man, and he was a Baron well suited for the fief of Redmont. He did his job well.

At the sight of the two men the Baron stood, his frustration forgotten for the moment. Gilan pushed the cowl of his cloak back as the Baron moved from behind his desk to shake hands with each of the men before him.

"Sir Cedric, I didn't think you'd make it." The Baron said.

Cedric shrugged. "I finished up some paperwork early and left a reliable replacement for myself in Meric, I'm just glad I caught up to the others in time, my lord."

"How was the journey?" The Baron queried.

"It went well, my lord." Gilan replied simply, his voice a mundane tone, concealing any hint of emotion in his young voice.

Baron Arald smiled widely, contented to hear that everything had went well with the excursion. The Baron went on, asking several more questions about the journey and about the fief of Meric itself. Cedric was quick to reply to Arald's questions, and the two exchanged news of the fiefs in delighted tones. As they did Gilan spotted the slightest hint of movement behind the Baron's desk. A mottled shape had slipped mutely into the room through a hidden passage.

Gilan fought back the anxiety burning in his veins as he leveled his gaze with that of his former mentors. Halt's face was hidden by the cowl of his Ranger cloak, making it hard for Gilan to see the grim gaze of the grizzled Ranger. From where he stood, Gilan could read the wordless message in Halt's dark eyes. _We need to talk._

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A nice and short chapter. I know Gil's supposed to be more outgoing than that when he greets his former Baron but I wanted to make him seem more reserved. He is expecting bad news after all.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3, revised.**

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Gilan and Halt rode side by side on a thin trail that led to Halt's cottage. The hooves of their horses made hollow sounds against the tightly packed dirt. Shortly after the brief meeting with Baron Arald the two Ranger's had met outside the tower. They traded little words of greeting to one another, the matter at hand was serious.

Cedric had left to go his own way with the rest of the Knights who were being treated to a banquet after there long day of traveling, leaving Gilan and Halt to calmly make their way to Halt's cottage to discuss what was really going on in Redmont.

As they made there way along the trail they didn't speak. The air had cooled slightly since night had fallen, but it still remained miserably warm. Each gently gust of wind felt like a short burst of air from a hot oven, and Gilan silently wished it would rain soon.

It only took a few dreadful minutes of steady riding to make it to the secluded comfort of Halt's cottage. The air in the cottage was cooler, and Gilan felt relief flood through him as he took a long look at the cottage.

Nothing had changed since Gilan's apprenticeship. The small cabin still consisted of three rooms. The first being the largest, where Gilan now stood. The room consisted of a small kitchen, living room, and dining room combined. The small kitchen area had a stove, and several feet away from it was a small oak wood table with three matching chairs set around it. In the living room there was a fireplace with a few oak logs stacked along side it. Two comfortable chairs stood around the fire place. There were two doors on opposite sides of the small house, each led to a small bedroom. Memories of Gilan's apprenticeship flooded over him like him like a cold breeze after a hot day.

The metallic sound of pots being moved around brought Gilan back to the present, he turned to see Halt, mixing together a quick beef stew. At the mouthwatering scent of the stew Gilan realized how hungry he was.

Halt set the pot onto the stove to let it cook before taking a seat at the small table. Gilan hung his cloak on the back of a chair before sitting across from Halt. The hood of Halt's cloak was pushed back onto his shoulders, revealing the grim face of the Ranger. A comforting sight it was to Gilan to see his former mentor in good health. There was an awkward moment of silence between the two before Halt decided to speak.

"Gilan, the reason you traveled with the Knights to Redmont isn't because they needed your help, it's because _I _need your help."

Gilan gaze his former mentor a puzzled look, he was about to ask a question but Halt waved his hand to stop him.

Halt met the younger Ranger's gaze evenly, his dark eyes turning solemn as he spoke. "There's been some trouble in the west woods near a garrison of ours. Guards of Redmont were assigned to be guarding the encampment."

Gilan listened intently as Halt trailed off, the young Ranger hid his annoyance at Halt's short explanation. "So what's the problem?" Gilan asked, his voice hushed.

"They're gone."

At Halt's words Gilan scowled, he didn't understand. "What do you mean, 'they're gone'?"

From across the table Halt leaned forward slightly to rest his elbows on the table, his dark eyes flashed with a emotion that Gilan couldn't identify. Guilt? Fear? Worry? "The garrison has been raided. There's nothing left, no guards, no supplies, no one. I've been questioning a nearby village, just outside the boundary of the west woods. They're terrified of the woods. They claim there's 'ghosts' lurking through the trees, and that they are responsible for the attack."

Gilan gave Halt a questioning gaze. "You don't really believe there's ghost in the woods do you?"

Halt shook his head. "Ghosts don't exist, but something in that forest does, and we're going to find out what."

As Halt finished his sentence Gilan frowned again and voiced a simple question that had been on his mind since Halt had first brought up the news of the garrison. "Why the both of us? Surely you could handle something like this on your own?" Halt rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Without a doubt, but these attackers are said to be quite devious. After there raid they left, leaving the garrison unmanned by anyone. With the village so close to the woods there's a chance that it will be attacked next now that the garrison is gone. The Knights of Meric should do a good job of guarding the village while we investigate."

Gilan thought for a moment, taking in all the details of what Halt had told him, the problem could be serious. There was no telling how powerful the attackers might be, for all the Ranger's knew so far it could be an army waiting for them in the west woods. Gilan concluded there was only one way to find out. He leveled his gaze once more with Halt's.

"It seems like we have a lot of work to do then, when do we leave?" A bright grin found it's way onto Gilan's handsome face, across from him Halt stood, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Two days." Halt murmured as he stood to pull the fragrant soup off the stove.

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Cedric was walking along the courtyard of the castle, dressed in his normal attire, a surcoat of good make and clean trousers, the beginnings of a smile never fading from his tan face. The Knight was enjoying his stay in castle Redmont, not even the recent news of the garrison raid had put a damper on his demeanor. He was as calm as a flowing stream and he couldn't help but be optimistic about the way things had gone so far.

He was on his way to the Baron's office to speak about the woods in the west. Cedric had been informed about the village, and Arald had wanted to further discuss the details of the village and woods.

Suddenly his aura of joy was shattered. Two guards escorting a struggling individual caught his eye. It was a kid, no older than fifteen, each guard held onto one of his arms strongly as they moved him towards the prison cell that awaited him.

The boy had coffee colored hair, with water blue eyes that burned with a determination to fight until his last breath, and from where Cedric stood it looked as if he would. The boy was wearing a pair of worn trousers, a dark jerkin, and soft soled boots.

"Let me go!" He hissed through gritted teeth as he fought vehemently at their grasp. The guards paid no attention to him, telling him that he was a thief, and he was going to get what he deserved.

"Stop!" Cedric shouted before he realized what he was doing. The guards turned to look at Cedric with a puzzled gaze. They knew who he was, he'd spent most of the day speaking with the guards, trading news of their castles between each other. Now Cedric had a feeling he was going to become a character disliked by them.

Now the boy was looking at Cedric, staring at him with a benumbed look. Cedric was lost for words, for a moment he seriously doubted the identity of the child.

"Cedric?" The boy mumbled, utterly abashed. It was him, Cedric knew it. He was staring at his little brother, being dragged away by the guards.

"Rowan what in the world is going on?" Cedric asked, his smile had faded, his joyful demeanor seemed to disintegrate as the scene unfolded. It had been years since Cedric had seen his little brother, the last he'd heard of Rowan was of his disappearance.

Now they stood face to face, their gaze's leveled, their thoughts racing. The guards didn't seem to notice all too much, they were simply focused on taking the thief away to a cold cell to think about what he'd done. The young boy had been caught trying to steal a bag of rice from a small market stand in the castle courtyard. The guards had been quick to catch him.

"You two know each other?" One of the guards asked, his tone showing a hint of annoyance. Cedric nodded briskly. "Yes we do, I'm his brother, please let him go." Cedric's voice had lost the confidence t usually carried, in it's place was concern for Rowan.

The second guard let out a short sigh before he spoke. "We can't do that, there are no exceptions for law breakers, no matter who they're related to." At that, the guards resumed tugging Rowan along towards his bleak fate.

"He's just a kid!" Cedric shouted, moving to confront the guards. His eyes simmered with anger. He couldn't let his younger brother be dragged off, even if he was a thief.

At Cedric's rebellious action a heated argument broke out. All the time the guards held tightly to Rowan, refusing to let him out of their grasp. Cedric was done pleading, and now he shouted at the guards, losing his grip on his usually well kept composure.

As the argument carried on, more guards gathered, along with commoners eager to see what the racket was about. Cedric was losing the argument, and so he chose a different approach to the situation at hand.

"If your taking him to the dungeon then your taking me too!" The guards seemed to like the proposition offered up by the Battlemaster. They took both Rowan and Cedric to the prison. They both went willingly this time, and as they walked, Cedric avoided the sidelong glance he received from Rowan.

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The Baron was sitting at his desk, his secretary, a fairly short man with a loud voice stood before him. The man had just finished his report, informing Arald about a letter of report from one of the many villages spread out among Redmont. As the secretary had spoken, Arald listened absentmindedly, filling out a lengthy piece of paperwork.

"My lord?" The secretary asked when the Baron didn't respond. Arald looked up, and instantly realized his mistake. "Sorry Martin, I'm just overburdened with all this paperwork." The Baron said with a gusty sigh.

Martin nodded, accepting the apology in a professional manor. "Is there anything else you require before I depart, my lord?" The Baron frowned for a moment, then he looked up, remembering the meeting he had planned with Cedric. The Battlemaster hadn't showed up.

"Actually, yes.," The Baron said, sitting up straighter and taking his tired eyes off the paperwork in front of him. "Do you know where Battlemaster Cedric is?"

Martin nodded. "Yes, my lord, I heard he was in the dungeon."

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The dungeon was cold, damp and unwelcoming to all. Rats scurried along the floors. A strong fetid odor filled the air, it seemed to cling to everything in the dungeon, along with it's captures. There wasn't the slightest hint of sunlight, only the faint glow of torches, mounted on the walls outside of the small cells.

Cedric sat next to his younger brother on a small bench in a cramped cell. They hadn't spoken, the tension in the air seemed to crackle like static. Rowan wasn't sure if Cedric was mad at him, and he hadn't summoned up the courage to ask, creating an uneasy silence between them.

Finally, Cedric broke the uncomfortable tension. "It's been awhile…" The Battlemaster said, his tone dismal. Rowan glanced at his older brother warily.

"Yeah, I guess it has…"

"Where were you all this time?" Cedric asked, feeling the curiosity flare to life inside him.

Rowan shrugged. "Anywhere. I went off on my own to find work. For awhile, it worked."

"Where did you work?"

"In Caraway for a while. I worked on a farm and cared for the horses. The farmer let me sleep in the loft, and his wife was kind enough to include me in the family meals. It was too good to last. The farmer found someone else to do the work I was doing, and since then I haven't found any work. I ended up here in Redmont, I've been stealing only what I need to survive on." Rowan glanced once more at his brother, reluctant to see the outraged reaction of the Battlemaster. It never came.

Cedric simply nodded. He looked at his brother, not wanting to believe that his younger brother had run off only to end up like this. Rowan did look rather scrawny, he was thinner than Cedric had ever remembered him before he'd run away. He had dark circles under his eyes and hollowed cheeks to. Apparently he wasn't a very good thief.

"I didn't think I'd see you again, honestly." Cedric said bleakly.

"Neither did I, and I never thought we'd sit side by side in a prison cell for something I did." Rowan grinned slightly, and he was glad to hear the soft chuckle of his brother next to him.

"I'm sorry I ran away, and I'm sorry you found me while I just happened to be getting thrown into the dungeon." Rowan spoke in a nervous tone, he hadn't expected the reunion with his brother to be so subtle.

"I guess we're both sorry. So I'm going to make this right. Your not going to steal anymore, and I'm going to take you in as my student."

Rowan gave his brother a puzzled look. "Your student?"

Cedric nodded. "I'm going to train you to be a Knight, as long as you promise never to steal again. And I mean it, not even a coppers worth of anything."

There was little consideration in Rowan's quick response. "It's a deal, but how are you going to get us out of here?"

Cedric shrugged. "I'll cross that bridge when we get there."

As Cedric finished his sentence heavy footsteps echoed through the dungeon, followed by two deep voices. Cedric quickly recognized one of them as Baron Arald, and he felt a ping of anxiety in his mind. He'd missed the meeting with the Baron.

A torch approached, and Cedric could make out the bulky figure of the dungeon master, carrying a heavy set of keys in one hand and a torch in the other. He was being followed by The Baron of Redmont, who looked rather unpleased. His brow was furrowed as he saw the distinctive shape of Cedric behind the iron bars of a prison cell.

"Cedric?" The baron asked in disbelief, for the moment not believing it was in fact the Battle master of Meric fief, to his dismay it was. "My lord." Cedric said, moving to his feet calmly.

The Baron sighed mentally, he wasn't sure what to say to the battle master. He'd heard of the incident in the courtyard. Arald didn't approve of Cedric's actions at all, he found the Battlemaster's actions drastic and rational at the least.

"We need to talk about this." The Baron said simply, his eyes boring into Cedric's. Though his gaze never wavered, Cedric knew Arald was speaking of Rowan.

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**I hope you all like Rowan's first meeting.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4, revised.**

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Baron Arald only spoke to the dungeon master for a moment, trading words in hushed tones before Cedric and Rowan were released from the confinement of the dungeon.

Then the Baron led them to his office, leaving Rowan in the secretary's company to be watched. Arald was staring at Cedric now, his eyes showing his concern for Cedric's actions.

"Cedric… I don't know where to start… Surely you know what you did was highly irrational…" The Baron began, his serious gaze locking with Cedric's. Nervously, Cedric shuffled his boots against the stone floor, not knowing what to say.

Finally, after a drawn out silence, Cedric found the courage to speak. "I can't say I agree with you, my lord."

The Baron of Redmont searched Cedric's gaze thoroughly, what he was looking for was unsure to Cedric. Cedric could feel a tingle of nervousness creep into his mind, growing rapidly by the moment. Cedric wasn't usually nervous, he'd always been able to hold a strict level of calm demeanor around authority figures, but then again, he had never caused an uproar with castle guards.

"I don't think you can justify your actions Cedric, what you did was simply uncalled for. Every citizen must take responsibility for his actions. Your brother was caught stealing, and so must pay the price, just like anyone else. No if, ands, or buts."

"My lord, he's just a kid." Cedric replied, his voice slightly higher pitched than he had intended, the Knight had a feeling that this was one battle he would not win.

"From what I understand he's at least fifteen years of age, if not older. That's plenty old enough, what he did was wrong. It must be acted upon, as must any other thief."

The little bit of formality remaining vanished from Cedric's mind, he abandoned the nervous composure he had once held. Instead his eyes filled with a mix of anger and sadness, and the argument briskly slipped out of hand.

"He's not a thief! He's my brother, and I would gladly take his place in prison because that's what brothers do!"

The Baron stood brusquely and slammed his fist onto his oak desk, sending papers fluttering to the floor. "They're no exceptions, there never has been! He was caught stealing, nothing will change that."

"I haven't seen him in years, if I don't help him now I will never see him again!" Cedric shouted, "Arald he deserves a second chance. How could I live myself if I walk away now, if I leave him to face a life of misery…" Cedric's voice cracked as he finished, and he realized that every word he said was true. He had never been there for Rowan, and now the chance was staring him in the face, so close, yet out of reach.

Arald gaze softened by just a hint, he knew it was only natural for Cedric to stick up for his brother, as irrational as his actions might have been the Battlemaster was only doing what he thought was right.

Still the Baron of Redmont was shaking his head. "There's nothing you can do Cedric, he can't stay here now, even if he is overlooked for his crimes, you have a responsibility to Araluen. You can't keep that responsibility and care for your brother."

The tension in the small office had simmered down slightly, and Cedric felt the anger in him ebb away. The Battlemaster stared at the ground as he thought, and then the answer came to him. He had already said it to Rowan, and just maybe it was the solution to the problem.

"He can be my apprentice. I could train him as a Knight. I could keep a close watch on him constantly," Cedric pleaded.

Arald gritted his teeth in thought, there were several moments of silence before the Baron summoned up a reply. "One chance." He said, his voice strict, his gaze made from stone. "You can take him with you to the west woods, but if he slips up one time he's through."

There was a hardened moment of silence between the two men. Understanding passed between them, along with the return of mutual respect.

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Rowan stuck close to his brother's side as they weaved their way towards the Redmont Battleschool. Shortly after the compromise for Rowan's freedom Cedric had explained the terms of the agreement to the boy. Now they headed to the Battleschool, it was time to find Rowan suitable equipment for the short journey to the western woods.

To start with Cedric had Rowan choose a wooden training sword, not wanting to put an actual sword in the young boy's hand just yet. Cedric watched Rowan as he experimentally lifted the sword in each hand. Rowan finally settled with the sword in his right hand, which was his dominate. Cedric nodded approvingly at Rowan, glad to see that Rowan was taking an interest in what he was doing.

Although Cedric had a very real sword of his own strapped to his left-hand side, he too chose a drill sword. The Battlemaster figured he would spar with Rowan in the near future. Cedric had always believed that the easiest way to learn was by doing instead of watching.

Along with drill swords, Rowan was supplied with a round buckler. The shield was circular, it's surface smooth and glossy. Rowan hefted the heavy shield and fasted it to his left arm. Almost instantly the weight of the buckler was reduced drastically. Experimentally, Rowan changed the position of his left arm, testing the balance. Cedric watched Rowan, the slightest hint of pride brewing in his blue eyes.

The Battlemaster found himself thinking of his family. He hadn't seen his Mother or Father in quite awhile. They lived in Meric fief, as they had all there lives. They ran a small bakery in the castle, and it had been by shear luck that Cedric's talent with a sword was recognized, and put to good use.

Now Rowan would get the chance to make an even living as a knight and Cedric would be there every step of the way.

That night Rowan collapsed tiredly onto a bunk of his own in one of the many common rooms set aside for the Knights of Meric. So far the day had been rather surprising. When he had woken that day he was little more than a poor thief, and now as he lay on top of the soft covers of the freshly made bed, he was on his way to becoming a Knight of Araluen. It seemed as if Rowan's life was beginning to look up, and he felt a burst of happiness at the thought. For once, he wouldn't need to face the world alone, this time he would have Cedric with him.

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In the woods west of Redmont, crouched in the thick brush under the shelter of the tall trees, was a figure. Wreathed in a dark cloak, the face of the shape was obscured. Long braches surrounded the stock still body. At a glance, it was impossible to catch sight of the distorted figure.

High above the pine trees of the forest hung the slightest sliver of the gleaming white moon. The scarce light emitted by the bright moon was just enough to illuminate a village that lay just a short distance from the forest edge.

The village was seemingly deserted at night, and only the warm summer breeze stirred the softest of movements. The gaze of the concealed figure remained locked on the village.

Then, with a slither of movement, the figure slide silently from the shelter of the trees. The soft soled boots muted the strangers footsteps against the parched earth. It took little effort for the ghost like figure to make their way into the heart of the village.

Even if the villagers had caught sight of the mystic figure, there was little they would be capable of doing about the unwanted intruder.

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**Chapter 4, revised.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5, revised.**

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The next day at dawns first light, Cedric roused Rowan from sleep. "It's time for training." Cedric said cheerfully as he pulled back the woolen curtains blocking the small window on the east side of the room. The scarce morning light poured into the room.

Rowan groaned in reply to the unwelcoming light. Reluctantly, Rowan climbed from the soft comfort of his bed and yawned tiredly. The boy rubbed his eyes before turning to look at Cedric.

The Battlemaster smiled widely at his brother. Rowan noticed the unusual attire that Cedric wore. The knight had neglected his trade mark coat of arms surcoat and instead donned a pair of dark breeches, soft boots that reached to his knees and a green surcoat. On the right sleeve of the neat looking surcoat was the unmistakable coat of arms belonging to Cedric. Cedric's coat of arms was a maroon lion's head, etched into the sleeve of his surcoat vividly. He'd been awarded the coat of arms for his bravery and courageous acts during a battle against a raiding party of Skandians. In Cedric's right hand he held a small stack of neatly folded clothes, and now he passed them to Rowan, the smile never dying from his tan face.

"Get dressed and meet me by the stables, it's time we started your training, make sure you bring your sword."

Cedric only took a second to explain before he left Rowan to himself. The newly named apprentice spread the clothes out across his bed, there was a pair of light brown trousers and a brown jerkin with a sage colored undershirt. Rowan changed into the clean clothes quickly, he tossed his dirty clothes into an untidy pile in the corner of the room, he'd deal with them later he decided.

He then retrieved his short sword from the end of his bed and headed to the Redmont stables.

Cedric was waiting for him as he had promised, and along with him, the Battlemaster held the reins of two Battlehorses. A large white stallion and a slightly smaller bay mare. The horses had already been saddled, and Cedric handed the reins of the bay to Rowan.

"First I thought we should go over a few lessons of riding." Cedric said as he mounted the muscular white horse. Rowan nodded and climbed astride the bay with little difficulty.

"Follow me," Cedric called to Rowan as he sent his white Battlehorse into a swift trot, Rowan followed close behind him. Cedric led them out of the castle and into the forest of Redmont, moving at an even gait. The horses hooves pounded against the hard packed earth beneath their feet, kicking up dust into the morning air.

They rode on through the mass of trees for several minutes before Cedric reined in his horse, Rowan following suit, his own mount slowing to halt beside the Battlemaster.

"It seems you still remember how to ride." Cedric murmured to Rowan. The boy simply nodded, still feeling rather weak with sleep.

"Well come on now," Cedric said as he swung down from his horses back lightly. The knight had brought his own drill sword with him and now he moved to a clear spot beneath the trees. He tied the long reins of the Battlehorse around a lowly hanging branch. Beside him, Rowan mimicked the action.

Cedric held his sword in his right hand and stood across from Rowan. "Well, let's see what you've got." The knight prompted. Although Rowan was not talented with a sword, he knew the basic tactics, vaguely. Now he demonstrated them against the Battlemaster.

Rowan hefted the drill sword in his right hand, he stepped forward and swung the wooden weapon at Cedric. The hickory hardened wood arced towards Cedric's side, and the Battlemaster stopped the sword with his own almost effortlessly. Rowan continued to attack Cedric, and the Battlemaster continued to easily parry and deflect the sword strokes with short and precise movements. It didn't matter what attacks Rowan chose. From thrust, side hands, overhands and back hands, Cedric effectively blocked them all. Finally, Cedric raised a hand for the relentless attack to stop.

"That was good, but you shouldn't hold the sword so tightly. If you used a more relaxed grip and tighten as each stroke strikes your opponent you do more damage, and you won't strain the muscles in your wrist too much." Cedric instructed. Rowan nodded, and once more the wooden swords clashed together.

* * *

By sundown that day Rowan felt as though his muscles were on fire. Cedric had kept the young apprentice busy through out the day, having him run long distances through the blooming forest, and continue to practice drills with Cedric.

Finally, as the sun began to set the two abandoned their boots and shirts and enjoyed the refreshing feel of an icy stream. The wide stream was only a few feet deep at the most, but the slow flowing water soothed Rowan's stinging muscles after the long day of training.

After the short break Cedric peered through the trees, trying to see the drooping sun. He sighed at the failed attempt and gestured for Rowan to follow him back to where they had left the horses tied. They mounted swiftly, fearing they might not make it back in time before the last of light died away beyond the horizon.

Cedric turned to Rowan, a grin forming on his handsome face, "I'll race you back to the castle." Rowan grinned widely and sent his horse forward into a gallop. Cedric followed after him, matching his speed evenly.

* * *

Halt and Gilan rode side by side through the woodland, and behind them followed the Knights of Meric. In all there were eleven full fledged Knights and one inquisitive looking Battleschool apprentice.

The group had set out at dawns first light, only stopping for a short lunch of bread and cheese during the early hours of their journey. Now they rode through the thinning line of trees on their way to the western village. So far they had made good time, and Halt suspected that they would reach the village well before night fall.

As it came to be, the Ranger was right, and just as the sun reached it's peak in the clear blue sky the group rounded a ridge and on the other side they caught sight of a break in the trees. Just a short distance ahead of them, standing before the vast mass of trees was a collection of houses and barns that made up the west village.

The Knights of Meric clattered into the town, their horses' hoof beats ricocheting loudly off the cobblestone path beneath them. Though the settlement of houses retained the name 'village' it was much more than that. Unlike most villages that consisted of only houses and small farms, the western village was complete with a large two story inn, along with a blacksmith and stable. Most of the structures were built from stone, and as Gilan took in the sight of the rather large settlement, he had to admit, it would serve as a rather effective Hold.

Surrounding the village there was little to protect it from attack. Running around the village was a mass of masonry that might have been a wall at some point in time. All that was left now was a tumbling pile of useless rock. The structures in the village seemed to all be made of a sturdy pine wood. Though the village seemed homely enough, there was an eerie aura that seemed to hang over the place. There was a constant feeling of being watched. Gilan glanced beside around warily, searching for unfriendly gazes.

"Where is everybody?" Gilan murmured quietly. Beside him Halt gave the slightest hint of a shrug. The village was bereft of activity, there wasn't a sole in sight. It only added to the disturbing feeling that settled over the Knights as their horses slowed to a halt in the center of the village.

Gilan spotted a small sign, sticking out of the ground in a rather crooked fashion. The words painted onto the lopsided sign were withered, and Gilan could barely make out the faded words. After a short time of studying the wording, the Ranger could make out the name 'Faladore village'.

Frowning Gilan turned to Halt, who was glancing around the small settlement suspiciously.

"So this is it, Faladore village… What a welcoming place…" Gilan said quietly.

Suddenly from the small stable set beside the two story Inn a small boy stepped forth. The boy had tousled blond hair and deep set eyes, the child's voice was dominated by a thick veil of fear as he spoke.

"Y-you're the Knights of Meric right?" He said shyly, staying a distance back from the Knights.

Cedric decided to take the lead, and the tall Knight nodded once before speaking. "Yes…" He said simply, his voice puzzled. He too had noticed the unearthly feeling of the village.

"R-right this way then good sir, I'll take care for the horses…" The boy stammered unevenly. The Battlemaster nodded and swung down lightly from the saddle, and behind him the rest of the Knights followed suit, there armor clanking loudly.

Leading there horses by the reins, the Knights led there exhausted Battlehorses into the Faladore stable. To their surprise there was hardly any horses in the tidy stable, and Cedric counted at least a dozen vacant boxes. Picking the first empty stall he found, Cedric led his horse into the small box and began to unsaddle the white Battlehorse. Rowan followed Cedric's actions, and the bay horse tossed it's head gratefully as the short boy removed the bridle. As Rowan worked he heard a voice from behind him, he turned to see the boy, looking up at him expectantly.

"I'll g-get that for y-you." He mumbled to his feet.

"That's alright, I've got it," Rowan replied, smiling slightly. The stable hand looked about his age, but Rowan felt a prickle of unease as he saw fear flicker in the other boys eyes. The stable hand turned away and went about his business unsaddling the Knights horses.

* * *

Once the Knights of Meric had finished bedding down there horses the uncomfortable stable hand directed them to the inn that stood across from the airy stable. While the boy stared at his feet, he had informed Cedric that the village elder would be there, and he was expecting the Knights sometime that day.

As they walked the short distance form the stable to the inn Halt was highly aware of the eyes that followed them.

The inn was a stuffy, musty little place, and Gilan wondered when the last time someone had opened a window in the place. The entire first floor was little more than a tavern. There was a small bar on the far side of the room, across from the front door. Behind the bar stood a rather stocky man with a red beard and a mess of curls to match. Wooden tables, made of glossy pine wood were scattered through out the tavern. A large fireplace was set along the wall close to the door, and a small fire burned calmly. Sitting across from the Inn keeper was an elderly man, in his late fifties at the youngest. His hair was streaked with grey, and his dark eyes held a deep concern as the Knights entered the dimly lit tavern.

The elderly looking man turned to look at the newcomers, his dark eyes lit slightly as he recognized the burly men as Knights of Meric.

"'Ello there youngsters! We've been expecting you for some time now." The man's voice was deep, and as he spoke his face lit in a warming smile.

"You must be the elder?" Cedric asked as he shook hands with the older man, in response, the man nodded.

"I'm Collin Grimes, village elder of Faladore."

"I'm Sir Cedric, Battlemaster of Meric fief, we've come to replenish the garrison in the woods."

Collin nodded before he turned to the inn keeper, "Won't you treat these brave men to a warm meal Gilbert?" The inn keeper nodded and ushered the Knights to a long table that spread across the side of the room. Heavy wooden benches stood on either side of the recently polished table. Collin followed the Knights and claimed a seat for himself across from Cedric.

Halt and Gilan took care to sit close by the Battlemaster, and as expected Collin began to explain the fear that riddled through the village.

"There's ghosts in them woods." He claimed, his voice grave. "They wear long flowing cloaks as dark the night sky, and carry long daggers they use for killin' the innocent," Collin rambled on, throwing his gangly arms into the air to add emphasis to his bizarre description.

"Have you actually seen these… ghosts, as you call them?" Cedric asked, his voice growing serious as he spoke. "Well of course I has, they be the reason this village lives in fear! They been livin' in the forest for a long they has, and something had got to botheren' those creatures. They be the ones' who slayn' the good men at the garrison! I saw one of them monsters too, just last night one of them come creepin' through the village."

Cedric eyed the superstitious old man wearily, the Battlemaster felt that the story was definitely unfeasible, but for the moment, it was all they had to go on.

"You say you saw one last night?" The Knight inquired curiously, Collin nodded rapidly several times.

"That phantom came waltzing in to this here village like nothing more than a drifting shadow."

"Care to describe it?" Halt asked grimly from where he sat. Collin looked up at the grizzled Ranger, a look of fear brimming in his dark eyes. The villager had seen Ranger's before, but he'd never heard one speak before. To the credulous old man the Ranger was a daunting figure, and the fear in his eyes remained prominent as he pointed a lanky finger at the cloaked figure.

"He looked a lot like you, he wore a cloak like yours, only it was darker and he was twice your size, and he had no face!"

Cedric looked up, slightly alarmed, "No face?" He echoed. Collin nodded rapidly once more.

"It had a cowl pulled around it's head, and when it stepped into the moonlight all you could see was the blackest abyss that there ever was! Those creatures of the night will spell the end of all that's good unless you good fellows stop them!"

Halt met the fearful gaze of Collin evenly as he spoke grimly.

"We plan to."

* * *

**Chapter 5, revised.**


	6. Chapter 6

Halt and Gilan stood side by side on the verandah of the inn. The two Rangers were still as they spoke in hushed tones to one another. "So how much of Collin's story do you believe?" Gilan asked Halt. The grizzled Ranger shrugged.

"Not much of it. I certainly don't think there are faceless ghosts running threw the woods." Gilan nodded, then he let out an airy sigh as he summoned up the courage to ask a question that had been prickling him throughout the day.

"Halt, you're an experienced Ranger, how did this happen? People don't come to fear something like these villagers do, surely there was some forewarning for this problem?"

Instantly, Gilan felt the stone set gaze of Halt burning into him. The younger Ranger met the hard gaze of his former mentor as he waited expectantly for an answer.

"Your right, there was a warning, but it was in no way significant."

Halt watched the confusion settle across Gilan's young face before he continued. "Superstitious villagers hardly ever lead to raids on garrisons." Gilan shrugged, he had to admit, Halt's reasoning made enough sense to him. The younger Ranger decided to drop the resolved subject.

"What are you planning to do now?" He asked, his gaze swiveling back to the deserted scenery of Faladore.

Halt shot Gilan a look that held a hint of humor in his grim eyes.

"I plan to catch a ghost."

* * *

Clouds scuttled in front of the moon, blotting out the scarce light provided by it. Gilan gave vent to a gusty sigh. Halt had set a watch that night, and now Gilan found himself sitting among the tumbled masonry that surrounded Faladore, wrapped in his mottled grey green Rangers cloak. His keen eyes searching the scenery for any sight of movement. There wasn't much to see, or to hear for that matter. The trees swayed gently in the light breeze, an owl hooted in the distance. The unchanging view of the dull listless setting of Faladore hadn't changed once that seemingly endless hour Gilan sat waiting among the rocks.

Then he heard the soft snap of a twig from somewhere in the forest. The Ranger's gaze swiveled slowly towards the almost inaudible sound. In the shadows of the tall trees something moved. Gilan watched with interest, engrossed in the new sign of activity, instinctively, Gilan's grip tightened around the long bow laying across his lap. Years of practice and training froze Gilan's muscles to the spot, and the young Ranger waited patiently. He expected something, but what occurred was far from what he had contemplated.

From the thick shadows of the forest a lithe figure moved into the moon light, edging forth cautiously from the edge of the trees. A dark ashen colored cloak fell around the shape. The cowl of the cloak was tossed back onto the strangers shoulders. To Gilan's surprise he found himself staring into the fierce gaze of a girl. She had a pale face, framed elegantly by soft brown hair that reached past her shoulders. The girl was only in the light for a moment before she slipped back into the shelter of the trees.

* * *

"A girl?" Cedric asked for the third time. Gilan nodded. "Yes, a girl." The young Ranger paced back and fourth across the room, his thoughts racing. Cedric was slumped in a oak chair at a small table in the tavern inn. Halt sat across from Cedric and the senior Ranger watched Gilan pace nervously.

Gilan had finished his watch without another sighting of the mysterious girl, and now that morning had dawned he anxiously struggled to explain what he'd seen to his comrades.

"What did you say she looked like again?" Halt questioned. Gilan stopped his pacing and looked at Halt. "She was pale. Extremely pale. She had dark brown hair, it was cut short though, almost like she wanted to look like a boy."

"Then what makes you think she's a girl?" Cedric probed. Gilan's gaze met Cedric's. "It definitely wasn't a boy, I've never seen a boy that pretty before, or that pale…"

"Did this, 'girl' have any weapons?" Halt queried quietly. Gilan shrugged. "I couldn't tell, but she matched the description that Collin gave us."

"So she was faceless." Halt said confidently.

"And twice the size of Halt," Cedric added, only to receive a dangerous glare from the grizzled Ranger.

"No, no, no, she had a face, and she wasn't tall, she had a light build, she didn't look the slightest bit strong. She moved almost silently though, I only heard her once before I saw her. Then she was gone… And her cloak, it was darker than ashes."

Cedric thought for a moment before leaning forward in his chair and linking his gaze with Gilan's. "So what you mean to say is last night you saw a scrawny figure,"

"Girl." Corrected Gilan.

"Scrawny _girl_, who moved quietly and wore a dark cloak. Is that all?"

Gilan thought for a moment. "She was pale too."

Cedric nodded. "That doesn't give us too much to go on, Gilan." Halt said placidly. Cedric was shaking head at Halt's statement.

"Or maybe it does. I mean, how many strikingly pale scrawny girls with short hair could there be in the Faladore woods?"

* * *

All in all there was only one, and as the sun had risen so had she. Now she stalked threw the thick brush of the Faladore forest. Behind her she heard a muffled whisper.

"Strider…"

The girl turned at the sound of her name, meeting the piercing green gaze of her young follower. "Glade…" She said in the same questioning tone. The tall boy behind Strider frowned before continuing.

"Why are we going back to the garrison, I thought we were finished with it."

Strider nodded, "We are, but that doesn't mean we don't drop in every now and then. We want to keep the garrison cleared for when we need it. It might be a good thing to know when it's overrun with imposters." Glade nodded, and Strider continued slinking threw the forest as quietly as possible.

Glade was dressed similar to Strider, with a dark cloak that blended exceptionally well with shadows, and a thin mask of baggy cloth at his neck that matched his cloak almost perfectly. When needed, the cloth could be pulled up and over the wearer's face, muffling there breathing, and helping to create a unnerving appearance. In most cases it served it's purpose well. Though for the moment the masks rested around the necks of the two as they made there way threw the thick brush. They had buisness to attend to.

* * *

Rowan pulled the leather girth strap if the light weight saddle taught, in response to the action the bay mare known as Ginger tossed her head enthusiastically. Rowan patted the horses neck gently as he led the mare from the stables. A small group of the Meric Knights were on their way to the garrison, and along with that group Rowan would tag along. They would guard the garrison threw out the night and the rest of the Knights would relieve them sometime after dawn the next morning.

As far as adventures went, Rowan wasn't looking forward to spending a night in the Faladore woods. He too had listened to the frightening tale told by Collin, and now as he stared at the forest he half expected to see a demented creature staring back at him. He shivered. Rowan had never liked the idea of ghosts, and he'd been dreading the moment when they would have to venture into the daunting forest before them. It seemed now that fate was determined to drag him into the vast collection of trees.

"Well come along now Rowan." Roland urged the boy as the young outgoing Knight mounted his own horse and began to ride closer to the looming tree line. Reluctantly, Rowan climbed astride his own horse and nudged the bay gently, sending the horse into a light trot after Roland. Although Rowan had only met the Knights the previous day Roland and he had struck up and instant friendship. The talkative young Knight chattered endlessly about what it was like in Meric fief and how he'd always dreamed he's be a knight, and Rowan had become highly grateful for the open kindness. The rest of the knights weren't the least bit as friendly as Roland. They had quickly come to a decisive decision about Rowan, rejecting the newly named apprentice as nothing more than a burden to them. Rowan had been stung by there rejection, making even more appreciative of Roland.

"So, what d'you think?" Roland said cheerfully as he gazed at the maze like mass of trees before them. Rowan tried to peer past the endless chestnut colored tree trunks and leafy green pine needles. He soon found his efforts to be in vain and he shrugged in reply to Roland.

"Well your enthusiastic." Roland commented in a joking manner. Rowan was about to reply when Cedric joined the two of them at the forest edge. The Battlemaster was accompanied by two more knights, and the ever present Rangers.

"Well, let's be off then." The Battlemaster announced to no one in particular before he urged his Battlehorse forward in a hasty trot.

The Faladore forest was no more that a labyrinth of tall trees that stretched on farther than the eye could see. The thick branches were secreted thickly with soft green pine needles. Sunlight shined down threw the trees, casting warm pools of saffron light on the sandy forest floor. Cedric led the group along at a slow pace, taking in as many of the varying details as he could. A gnarled tree marked a sudden turn in the path. The dirt trail continued straight, while also branching off the right abruptly. Cedric urged his horse around the bend gently, as it led to the desolate garrison.

In all, there were five capable knights, including Cedric, two Rangers, each with there long bows unsung and laying across there lap, already strung. And then Rowan of course. He was quick to realize that he was the most incapable fighter of the entire group, and even though a short swung now hung on the left side of his saddle pommel he still highly doubted he could put the weapon to much good. The short sword was mainly for any, close encounters as Cedric had put it the day they left Redmont castle.

"It's unlikely you'll need to use it, but it'll be good to have for a defense against any attackers." In turn, Cedric had made sure that Rowan could block effectively with the light weapon, insisting on hours in the blazing heat practicing the basic blocking techniques. The result was effective, and Rowan was rather confident that he could avoid having his head lopped off by a challenger, as long as they were blind.

The thought of fighting seemed far off to Rowan at the moment, he wasn't sure that he feared the thought of knightly combat, or faceless apparitions. He'd almost rather take his chances against a swordsman. At least he might have a chance of doing some damage that way. Fighting a ghost was a different matter, and Rowan wasn't convinced that a well aimed blow from a short sword would harm a ghost, or anger it. He wasn't willing to find out either.

Ahead of him at the straight path widened, allowing at least three men to ride abreast as the head of the party. Cedric moved to one side, and in response, Halt nudged Abelard gently wit his knee, sending the shaggy horse forward to trot beside the Battlemaster.

"Well I haven't seen any faceless ghosts." Cedric said dully, his eyes still searching the surrounding trees, half expecting a demented figure to rise form the underbrush. "Can't say I'm heartbroken about that either." The knight admitted shrewdly.

Halt nodded his grizzled head in response. "We still have a long night ahead of us. I'm sure we'll see something of the kind." Cedric caught the slightest hint of grim humor in Halt's voice and he grinned weakly. The attempt was doomed to failure, and the grin was more of a grotesque grimace.

"Do you really think we'll see something similar to what Collin described?" Cedric asked, voicing Gilan's own thoughts out loud.

"I think not, Collin is little off his rocker, to put it mildly." Halt retorted softly, his tone bordering on grave.

"Let's hope so." Cedric said with a heavy sigh.

* * *

The garrison was a bulky mass of dark masonry that, at one point in time might have been a blue color. Now the heavy stone structure was little more than a dark brooding mass as the Knights approached it. The weathered walls towered above the sandy forest floor, the highest point being just before the thick canopy of trees. Directly above the sheltered little structure the sky was in view, and the suns early rays lit the space well. The garrison was a square shape, even on each side, the front of it facing east, towards the knights. A heavy looking wooden door dominated the front side, now open revealing the inside of the deserted post.

The inside was no better than the outside. Wooden pathways ranged the outer edge of the inside interior. Wooden ladders leaned against the edges of the pathways. The floor, similar to that of the forest was bereft of shrubbery and grass . A thin layer of sand and grit coated the ground. To Cedric's dismay there was no sight of any barracks for the knights, with a sinking feeling, he realized that he and his men would be spending the night on the gritty floor. With a slight interest Cedric noticed there were barrels lined on one side of the small fort, along with a waist high post that would work effectively to tether horses to. A thick dank odor hung over the small fort, driven away by the slightest hint of wind.

Something caught Halt's eye, a shiver of movement against the dark masonry of the fort on the top of the path ways. There he made out the dark form of a shadowy figure. It seemed to notice the Knights to, and as the shouts of the knights rang out Halt slid his bow back to full draw, the end of the arrow brushing against the corner of his mouth. Beside him Gilan had done the same.

Decisively, Strider peered over the edge of the wall, it was at least an eight meter drop the rough ground below, where Glade was waiting for her. Hesitantly, she glanced back at the knights behind her, and seeing them drawing there swords made her decision. Holding onto the calloused edge of the wall and swinging her legs over the masonry, she dropped to the ground, extended to full height. As she hit the ground her knees bent, taking the brunt of the drop and sending her into a forwards roll. Behind her she could hear the sounds of knights storming up the ramparts to stare after her. Strider wasted no time, moving swiftly she urged Glade forward. What had happened was more than bad. It was tragic for Strider and the rest of the rebels.


	7. Chapter 7

"Knights you say?" Strider nodded at the tall man standing across from her. They stood in a dimly lit cabin, a small fire crackling in the brick fireplace to Strider's left. Behind the well built man was a small stove, and close by it were a small wooden table, rectangle in shape with pale tan chairs settled around each edge of the pale table. The floor was a dark wood, nailed together tightly. There was one door leading off from the main room, which now stood closed. A grey and white mass of lengthy fur rested in front of the fire place, rising and falling gently. A grey ear was flicked up, listening to every hint of sound. The rest of the main room was bereft of much else than hard wood.

The burly figure standing before Strider looked doubtful, and Strider felt a flash of red hot anger at his immediate disbelief.

"Kerjack, they were Knights, I know that for sure." Fighting a losing battle against the frustration that rose in Strider's mind, the girl paced across the room, casting elongated shadows across the wall as she moved in front of the firelight. "It was pretty obvious, the massive Battlehorses and heavy suits of armor were pretty convincing to me."

Kerjack nodded as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Kerjack was quite older than Strider, and his dark hair showed the slightest hints of grey here and there, but his physical shape and abilities suggested other wise. He was fit for his age, and while he was an advisor for the rebel group known as The Shadows, he preferred to do his fair share of fighting.

"Were they of the Cult?" He asked blandly. Strider shook her head and gave vent to an impatient sigh. "I didn't see any of there surcoats clearly, I wanted to get as far away from there as soon as possible. It wasn't a risk I was rightfully willing to take, not with Glade with me."

The Cult of Day were The Shadows mortal enemies. The two groups had clashed repeatedly for years, and now the battle was being driven into the Kingdom of Araluen. The normally well matched opponents had recently become more and more unmatched. The renegade Knights of the Cult had slowly began to overpower The Shadows, the result was devastating. The rebel forces were dwindling now, and time was wearing thin. The Cult had the Kingdom of Araluen in there sights, and they would stop at nothing to surpass there mortal enemies to wage war with the Kingdom.

Once more, Kerjack nodded and Strider realized that they seemed to be doing quite a lot of that lately.

"There's a chance they might be Araluen. Surely they would want to replenish the garrison after the raid, it's better to be cautious about this for the moment though." Kerjack reasoned evenly. Strider found the older mans opinion plausible, but there was a nagging doubt in the pit of her stomach.

"There was something else…" The girl started, the anger and frustration having vanished from her voice. Kerjack looked at her inquiringly. "I saw too cloaked figures, they had longbows slung across there backs, and I know it might seem absolutely irrational, but I think they were Rangers…"

Kerjack looked taken back. "Rangers?" Strider nodded and mentally kicked her self for using the highly abused gesture. "I'm almost sure of it, which I cant say is a good thing. I mean if were stirring up enough trouble in the forest to attract them were heading for a downward spiral, and fast…"

"I have to say I agree with you." Kerjack admitted quietly. "what's your next plan of action then?" The senior warrior asked, his gaze leveling to meet Strider's , the girl looked away into the coals of the fire. The flickering flames emitted a ominous glow, and Strider let out a sigh as she stared at the orange glare of light.

"I'm going to speak to them…" Strider murmured in an almost inaudible voice as she finally met Kerjack's gaze with her own.

"I hope your not serious." He told Strider, an outraged look in his eyes. "After all, what if your wrong, and they aren't even Rangers? Then what?"

Strider shrugged. "I don't know, I was sort of counting of them being Araluen Ranger's who would be happy to know that there about to be invaded by a Cult." Kerjack shook his head.

"You need to think this through Strider." Kerjack's voice was stern, and suddenly Strider felt like a defiant child again, only now she could fend for herself, without the help of others.

"Kerjack, normally I would agree with you, but I can't shake this feeling. If there really are Rangers at the garrison and we stand by and do nothing about this now, it will be too late next time." Strider's gaze was growing in defiance, Kerjack felt a surge of warmth at the girl's stubborn and defiant ways. She hadn't changed the slightest bit through out the long time Kerjack had known her.

"I can see your set in your ways about this." Kerjack said with a defeated sigh. He shifted his weight uneasily, his brows came together as he mulled over the argument made by Strider. Finally, after several moments of consideration, Kerjack came to a decision.

"It's not up to me to stop you from going…" He said slowly, his gaze probed Strider's calm faced exterior. The girl almost couldn't suppress the burst of triumph. Kerjack's reply was a long ways short of his approval, but it was better than his absolute disapproval.

Strider nodded, and this time, she decided the gesture rather fit the moment, particularly because she felt if she spoke she might explode with happiness. So she compromised, choosing to stay silent as she gathered a small dagger to hook to her belt, along with a lengthy dirk, which fit snugly into her right boot. Besides that, Strider neglected to bring anything else but her cloak and mask, which at the moment were already draped around her. They hung loosely from her small frame, and Kerjack could see the slightest hint of innocence in her eyes. Suddenly the wise and noble Kerjack thought for, that a moment, the girl standing before him wasn't a experienced fighter, but a fragile figure. Kerjack watched as she made her way to the door, the figure stopped and looked back at him. A question was forming in her hazel eyes.

"Kerjack?" She asked in a confident tone. "Yes?" He replied evenly, a smile playing on the corners of his lips. He already had guessed what she would say next, as it was something she had said to him many times before.

Strider's eyes filled with humor, and her tone was light hearted as she spoke. "If I'm not back by night fall, send the dog." Kerjack grinned, understanding the well meant jibe between the two. The grey lump of fur in front of the fire place merely twitched at the word 'dog'.

Without waiting for a reply form Kerjack, Strider pushed the door of the cabin open and made her way out into the midday sun.

Halt's eagle like gaze scanned the surrounding area of the garrison for the third time. Again, he saw nothing more than the endless tree trunks, the occasional low lying tree branch and the dry, dusty earth. There was no sight of the lithe figure that had swiftly absconded from the garrison. As an expert tracker, Halt had found following the boot prints left on the musty ground rather easy to follow, and it was clear to Halt that the daring mystery man had a follower. Two sets of boot tracks led threw the forest, almost the same in size, they left a steady trail heading south. From the scuffled dirt and the deep imprints in the hard parked earth, Halt had gathered that they were running.

It would have been relatively easy for the Knights, along with help from the Ranger's to catch up with the strangers and find out exactly what business they had snooping threw a deserted garrison. That is, of course, if the prints in in the dirt hadn't vanished. The foot prints became closer as the mysterious figures had slowed there pace, then without much more warning, the tracks in the dirt had trailed off into little scuffles in the dirt.

Both Halt and Gilan had come to the same conclusion as they examined the daunting trail. "They've covered there tracks." Halt had murmured first, and Gilan had nodded. "They were leading us on, maybe even in the wrong direction completely." The young Ranger said with a sigh.

It was slightly discouraging, and Halt was quick to realize that they were dealing with someone a little more experienced than they had expected. In response to the trifling discovery, the Rangers had made there way back to the garrison. Now they stood along the wooden walkways mounted along the edge of the garrison. Halt surveyed the forest constantly his trained eyes catching the slightest hints of movement. To his dismay there was little that moved at all during his watch. An occasional bird fluttering from tree to tree, squirrels foraging intently as they struggled to find the slightest morsel of grain to feed on. Other than that, there was nothing else to be seen, heard, or observed for the moment.

The lack of movement in the trees unsettled Gilan as he stood next to his former mentor. There was something unnerving about it all, and it was becoming more and more of a distraction to the young Ranger. It constantly felt like someone was watching him, and it kept him glancing over his shoulder. Halt seemed to notice the nervous action.

"Rather irritating, isn't it?" The Ranger said dryly.

"That's one word that describes it." Gilan retorted softly. "What do you think we should do now?" He asked, having already mapped out his own plan of action, he was still curious of Halt's own plans.

"We could probably find the real trail, and follow it to our mysterious strangers, or we could let them go." Gilan looked at Halt with a questioning glint in his eyes. "Let them go?" He repeated, and Halt nodded. "If they have business at the garrison we could assume that they will come back at some time or another."

"And what if they don't? What if this is our only chance to follow them?" Gilan questioned.

"That's unlikely. If these are the same people who raided the garrison, they've been here for quite awhile. From what we know about the raid, it was quick, and highly successful. There was nothing left when they finished. They must have already planned the attack, from start to finish." Halt explained grimly.

"So, in other words, it's unlikely that they're done here. They plan to finish what they've started." Gilan ventured, and Halt nodded.

"That's exactly what I think there going to do, and it's up to us to stop them." As Halt finished there was a suddenly whinny of alarm from the shaggy Ranger horses, which stood obediently still nearby the Rangers. The conversation between the two Ranger's was over. Instinctively, they moved into the cover of the patchy shadows, their horses now falling silent.

They only made it a short pace or two when they heard the muffled voice coming from a tree several yards away. It was a smooth sound, with the slightest hint of a indistinct accent.

"Or more accurately, it would be up to The Shadows."


	8. Chapter 8

**The Last chapter left off with somewhat of a nail biter, so this chapter is EXTRA long. Please review! Any comments are greatly appreciated!**

* * *

Almost instantly, Halt had his long bow at half draw, a black shafted arrow already nocked to the string and leveled with the newcomers chest, where the heart would be. The shot, if loosed, would be a killing blow.

The stranger stood nonchalantly, leaning against the thick tree trunk of a massive pine tree. The newcomers arms were crossed across their chest, dark gloves wound themselves around the thin arms. Slight in stature, the figure had a long dark cloak draped over their shoulders. Beneath the cloak the newcomer wore a simple pair of dark brown trousers, a dark surcoat, and a pair of soft boots that reached just below their knees. A simple belt hung crookedly across their waste, the hilt of a long dagger was easily recognized at the strangers left hip. A loose mass of black cloth was present at the figures neck. The cowl of the dark cloak was pulled up over the newcomers head. Gleaming eyes, matching the color of a new born fawn's coat, met the cold grim gaze of Halt as he spoke.

"Look who's back." He said simply, holding his bow level. Beside him, Gilan's own bow was at the ready, though lowered for the moment, an arrow was nocked to the string. In one fluid moment, the young Ranger cold raise, aim and loose an arrow in an instant. His keen gaze scanned the forest for any figures that might decide to reveal themselves from the tangle of trees and underbrush. So far, the Ranger had yet to spot any.

The cold, harsh tone of Halt's voice matched the dangerous gleam in the Ranger's eyes as he stared unflinchingly at the stranger. "Just who might you be?" He questioned.

Just a ghost of a smile crossed the strangers face as they stepped forward, throwing back the cowl of their cloak to reveal a pale complexion of a young girl. Dark brown hair fell around her face in a disorderly fashion. It was roughly cut and short, it gave the girl a rather errant appearance. She was strikingly beautiful, and neither Halt nor Gilan could imagine how deceptive those good looks could be.

Gilan had recognized her instantly. The dark cloak, the brown hair and the way it fell around the girls face was shockingly familiar to him. He'd seen the very same girl the night before. Gilan quickly smothered his apparent shock, he decided it was best to keep the fact to himself for the moment.

"That depends on who you are." The girl replied, her voice holding a rigid tone, it was an intentional tone, and a well practiced one at that.

Halt was startled as he realized that the stranger he had been about to put an arrow threw, was in fact little more than a girl. He could hardly shoot a girl, and for a moment the Ranger's bow dropped slightly. Halt felt a pinprick of doubt echo in his mind, there was still a dagger at the girls waist. She might know how to use it, Halt thought. Reluctantly, he conceded that if the girl posed any sort of threat, he was confident that he could react fast enough to stop her. The Ranger lowered his bow, and replaced the black shafted arrow in his quiver at his right shoulder. There was no need for them. Beside Halt, Gilan did the same.

"King's Ranger's," Halt said simply, his grim tone remaining a monotone of voice. The girl inclined her head slightly, her eyes showed a spark of quizzical thought. She silently debated if the men before her were worth trusting.

"I'm a Shadow." The girl said, resulting in questioning looks from both of the Ranger's.

"What might that be, exactly?" Gilan asked, and this time the girl had no hesitation in her reply.

"Were the soldiers who've kept deadly war from reaching your Kingdom." The girl's keen eyes probed the Ranger's faces for their responses.

Halt frowned grimly, a war was a serious matter, an invasion of any kind would need to be reported to the King promptly he knew. That was of course, if the mysterious stranger standing before them was telling the truth, so far, Halt was skeptic. Though the idea of a war might fit the story gathered by the Ranger's so far. There was definitely something in the Faladore woods that was out of place. The girl, Halt noted, seemed to be a contributor to the disorder. Halt was about to ask a vital question, but something stopped him in his tracks.

The quiet, calm conversation between the Ranger's and the mysterious stranger was cut off abruptly by the sharp sound of hooves. It split threw the afternoon air with startling ease. In response, the Ranger horses tossed their heads wildly, and stamped their hooves as they turned towards the direction of the sound. Halt and Gilan's own gazes swiveled towards the sound, there was nothing to be seen but the stock still trunks and branches of trees.

Instinctively, the Ranger's hands' fell to there bows, arrows nocked themselves to well oiled strings swiftly. Then, the sound of hooves, thundering across the dry earth fell over the small group, the hoof beats were growing closer.

For the moment, the stranger was forgotten, and that alone was a near fatal mistake. Gilan stared at the trees, listening to the sound keenly, then there was the sinister whisper of a dagger sliding from it's scabbard, and the glint of a razor sharp blade at Gilan's neck.

Instantly, the Ranger froze, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and with a sideways glance he saw the dark leather wrapped hand of the girl. While the Ranger's attention had been diverted she had moved stealthily to stand behind the young Ranger, throwing the cowl of her dark cloak up around her, and tugging the thin cloth from her neck around her face. Now she held Gilan hostage.

Halt's bow was half drawn, he knew he'd made a mistake by lowering his weapon to the girl in the first place. Now Gilan might have to pay for his mistake, with his life.

"Let him go," Halt said coldly, aiming for the girl's throat. She stood behind Gilan, a little to the left of him, the masked face and obscured appearance she had taken on was clearly visible.

"Loose an arrow and he dies with me," The girl said, her voice muffled by the face mask. Halt was confident that he could pick off the girl with considerable ease, but there was still a chance that the blade gleaming brightly next to Gilan's neck would deal a fatal wound to the young Ranger. It wasn't a risk Halt was willing to take. Reluctantly, Halt lowered his bow. The hoof beats were growing closer.

"Into the trees, now." The girl commanded, nodding for Halt to lead the way. The Ranger did, glancing back to make sure that Gilan and the girl were following. They had only made it a few paces into the thick brush when the girl ordered them down.

"Get in the brush, quickly, you mustn't be seen." Halt obeyed, and crouched in the thick shelter of a bramble bush. The wild mass of leaves and thorns served the purpose of sheltering the Ranger. Beside him Gilan followed suit, the point of the dagger never wavering more than a few inches away from his neck. The heavy drumming of hooves was alarmingly close now.

"If you value your lives you'll stay still." The girl hissed, then the riders were visible. From a twisting path of parched dirt came the sight of at least a dozen mounted horsemen. Each wore a black surcoat, a symbol of a crimson sun was imprinted clearly on them. Each of the mounted men carried a weapon, from a cross bow to a long sword. The horses they rode were tall and heavily muscled, there gleaming coats varying in color from black to white.

The leader of the group slowed the cantering to a sluggish trot, he was a burly man with a thick beard and a look of bitter hate in his dark brown eyes. Halt and Gilan remained still, as there years of training had prepared them to do. The girl too, remained still, her eyes catching every movement of the men as they slowed their pace.

"The trail leads this way…" One of the mounted men reported to his commander as he leaned over to peer more closely at a scuffle of boot prints in the dirt. They were distorted, and luckily the tracker hadn't noticed that the faint trail leading to the brush where the Ranger's now hid.

The commander, with a broadsword slung at his saddle bow nodded his head in a snobbish way. His jet black hair swished away from the left side of his face to reveal an ugly scar just above his left eye. It was an old wound, one of which had been paid for dearly by the unlucky inflictor.

"Forget the Shadow, we have a garrison to seize control of." With that, the commander clapped his spurs into his horses side and proceeded to lead the group threw the forest, heading in a distinct direction that led to the unsuspecting garrison.

Gilan felt his heart skip a beat as he thought of the garrison, the Knights of Meric would be on guard, with weapons within their close reach. It would be a one sided battle. The Knight's of Meric would be outnumbered. It wouldn't end well, and Gilan felt a deep sinking feeling as he thought this threw.

The girl began to rise, and she guided Gilan to his feet. There was a soft unmistakable clink of a saddle harness, and Gilan felt a hard rough hand shove him back down to the ground, this time he sprawled flat. The girl lay belly down next to him, with Halt was low in the brush beside Gilan. The girl's arm was thrown over Gilan's shoulders, the dagger rested near his throat still. The three were ominously still.

There was a clear low whistle that drifted to the concealed Rangers and the errant girl. Almost instantly, Gilan felt the hand across his shoulders relax. The girl stood, this time taking the dagger away from Gilan's neck. The young Ranger heard the whisper of the weapon sliding snugly back into it's scabbard.

Beside him, Halt rose to his own feet, the girl let out a sharp, piercing whistle. Then shrugging back the cowl of her cloak and tugging the mask down from her face, she held out a hand to Gilan, who was beginning to recover.

"Sorry for that," She said shortly as she pulled Gilan to his feet. Halt glared at the girl suspiciously. "I didn't plan on killing anyone, but those horsemen had their own view of things…"

"They were after you." Halt stated mildly. The slim shouldered girl shrugged.

"That's not a surprise."

"How's that?" Halt questioned.

"I'm a Shadow. Around here that alone is reason enough to want someone dead." Gilan frowned at the girl's statement.

"We've got to get back to the garrison, now." Gilan said, "We've got to help the Knight's." Halt nodded agreement, but the girl was shaking her head.

"I'm afraid we just can't let you do that." Halt and Gilan turned to see a tall young man standing behind them. He was dressed in a similar fashion to the girl, with sandy brown hair and striking green eyes. He wore a long dark cloak, and had a scruff of cloth at his neck as well.

"This is Fell, another Shadow, and he's right, if you go back to that garrison they'll kill you and never think twice about it."

"And if we don't go back we'll leave the Knights to face their deaths." Halt pointed out grimly.

"Right now, there's nothing you can do for them. They may be spared, but you, as Ranger's won't. We'll explain later, but right now we need to as far away from this garrison as we can."

Halt instinctively felt for his bow, he smoothly nocked an arrow to the string. "You plan to stop us?"

Fell stepped forward and put an arm around Gilan's shoulders swiftly. A dagger was in his hand, he stood casually next to the Ranger as he spoke. His eyes were emerald stone.

"Believe me, I want to go the garrison just as much as you do." The rough tone of Fell's voice delayed any questions Halt or Gilan might have asked.

"We don't have a lot of time," The girl said shortly. "Let's move."

The Ranger's were relieved of their weapons, the Shadows pulled their masks' around there faces and raised their cowls.

"You can call me Strider." The girl had said before moving alongside Halt, dagger in hand. They moved quickly, staying in the thick brush and shadows whenever possible. The Ranger's horses clopped along behind the small group.

* * *

They had been walking for a long while when another whistle cut threw the air. It was a low sound, and once more, Strider replied sharply. From a large tree close by a figure slipped down from the trees, dropping from a low branch quietly.

Halt quickly recognized the slight figure as another Shadow, bearing the distinct attire, a cloak and a mask. As the newcomer pulled down his own mask and threw back the cowl of his cloak, Fell and Strider did the same.

The newcomer was shorter than Fell and Strider, with brown hair and innocent eyes. He's just a boy, Gilan realized as he stared at the childlike face.

"Strider, your back." He said, his voice soft and kind.

"I told you I'd find her," Fell said with a wide grin.

Strider rolled her eyes, "What a hero… Ranger's this is Glade, he's an apprentice. Glade these are Ranger's, now were all acquainted."

"Can I help?" Glade said energetically, though it was hard to say he knew what his comrades were up to.

Fell simply nodded and passed the reins of the horses to the young boy. With that the boy followed them along, they reached a point were the ground sloped sharply, the trees thinned considerably. Ahead Halt could spot a large flat rock, it jutted out from the sloping ground creating an overhang in a wide clearing. Thick brush surrounded the deep dip in the ground, and the Shadows led the Ranger's around the large rock and down threw a mass of brush.

Strider nudged Halt forward, "Go threw, were right behind you." She said calmly. Reluctantly the Ranger did, he found that the thick leaves and branches were easy to push threw, and he realized that it was meant to be that way. As he moved passed threw the rest of the brush he found himself in a large clearing, in the center stood one tall, leave less tree. It's trunk was stripped of bark and it was barren of leaves. Around the outer lying edges of the clearing stood several tents, along with a cabin, tucked under the rock overhang.

The tents, Halt noted, were darkly covered, in front of them were camp fires. Around some of the fires sat more Shadows. In all, Halt guessed there was at least twenty of them that he could count. They all had curiosity burning in their eyes as Strider ushered Halt and Gilan towards the cabin.

"Welcome to the camp of Shadows." Strider said as she sheathed her dagger. Fell mimicked Strider's gesture and returned his own weapon to it's scabbard. He followed behind Gilan and Halt as Strider led them to the cabin.

As they walked many of the Shadows gave them glances, some glares, while others called greetings to the returning Shadows.

"Looks like Strider caught herself some Ranger's!" Called a handsome soldier sitting against a rough stone set around a small fire, he was darkly tanned and a scar was visible on his left cheek.

Strider and Fell returned the greetings warmly, and Halt guessed the Shadows must be a close knit group considering the wide grins and open jokes shared between them.

"Were are you taking us?" Gilan asked as they approached the cabin. Strider smiled dimly as she knocked on the hard wood door, the sound was a dull hollow thud.

"To Kerjack of course."

From inside the confines of the cabin came a booming reply, "Come…" Strider pushed the door open and ushered the others in before her, the grin had yet to fade from her pale face.

"Go on, he's not that scary."

Halt led the way into the dimly lit cabin, a sharp bark and a loud snarl greeted him he froze mid stride. A large dog, standing several feet tall with a coat of grey fur that stuck out like a lion's mane stood in his way.

"Down Ghost." Fell said and immediately the dogs fur fell flat, the lethal look left it's pale grey eyes, it's tail wagged bag and forth as it greeted Fell and Strider. It whined with gratitude as the two fondled the dogs ears.

Gilan cast a glance around the cabin, in short words, he would say that it was highly unimpressive. The roof was a simple deal of high placed rafters and a ceiling of half rock and wooden timbers. Three walls were made of similar wood, while the final one was also slate grey rock. A wide fireplace had been carved into the rock, along with a short ledge well suited for seating. A light oak wood table was centered in the middle of the small space. There was a small kitchen area set to the left of the fire place. Five matching chairs stood around the table, one door led off from the main room of the cabin. Seated at one of the chairs was a tall, rather muscular looking man. His eyes were kind and deep set, his thick brown hair was shortly cut and slightly graying with age, the man's beard was very similar. His face showed signs of scaring, and Halt assumed that the man before him had definitely seen some battle in his time. Like Fell and Strider, he too was dressed like a Shadow. He frowned as he say the Ranger's he stood and shot Strider a questioning look.

"I thought you were just going to talk to them," He said in a deep voice. Strider shrugged.

"That didn't exactly go as planned… But then again, when does it ever?" At this the man had to nod, it was true. Then, taking the initiative, the man stepped forward and held out a calloused hand to Halt.

"I'm Kerjack," He said, Halt shook the man's hand, admiring the tough hand shake. "I'm Halt."

At this Fell glanced at Strider, "You've really done it this time… You've got Halt the Ranger snooping threw the forest…" He whispered quietly. Strider grinned and elbowed Fell tenderly.

"You're the leader, you take responsibility for all your soldiers actions."

Fell sighed. "Well I can't do that now if Halt here puts an arrow threw me."

"Take a seat gentlemen, there's no need to be shy, we mean you no harm." Kerjack said a little loudly as to drown out the soft tones of Strider and Fell. Reluctantly the Ranger's settled themselves around the small table, uncertain of the reason. Kerjack settled himself at a chair and smiled warmly at the Ranger's.

"What do you want to know?" He asked. Halt considered the question for a moment before answering. As the Ranger thought, Strider moved to the room that led off from the main. The slim shouldered girl disappeared quietly into the room. Fell made his way into the kitchen, and soon the wafting aroma of fresh ground coffee drifted threw cabin.

Halt locked his gaze with Kerjack's, and with a thick veil of grim tone hanging over his voice he spoke.

"Everything."

* * *

The forest was alive with life Cedric noted as he watched two squirrels race up a tree after each other. So far the garrison was proving to be a rather odd place. First, they had seen a mysterious figure swing over the wall and drop to the ground. It had been a rather startling sight for the Knights. The Ranger's, on the other hand had been a little more prepared, and they had each sent arrows smacking into the masonry were the cloaked figure had been only a second before. Thinking back to the first moment of stepping into the garrison Cedric had to admit, the figure did resemble that of a ghost, and it only took a short time before the Battlemaster had visualized a cloaked faceless figure. He swallowed hard. His hand instinctively fell to his waist to touch the cold steel of his sword. It was a comfort thing.

The burly Knight preferred to be fighting enemies he was sure he could cut with a blade. He wasn't all that sure he could harm a ghost with his sword, no matter how well his swordsmanship might be.

From where he stood on the ramparts, Cedric could see all of the garrison, and a large portion of the surrounding forest. Most of it he realized was nothing more than massive tree trunks and branches heavily overburdened with vivid green leaves. It was truly a mind numbing duty to man a garrison. It was a sentence to pace across the wooden ramparts and stare dumbfounded into the unchanging scenery of the forest.

Cedric sighed for at least the fifteenth time in ten minutes. He surveyed the rest of the garrison, they too seemed fairly agonized with boredom. The Knights shoulders' were slumped reluctantly, they too were better suited for the more exhilarant task of Knightly combat. Not one of them guessed that they would get exactly that.

It started out as a dull rumbling sound, them gradually but steadily became a roaring thundering of hooves. Cedric leaned over the masonry wall of the ramparts and saw a cloud of dust being led along by mounted horsemen. He realized with a sinking feeling that they definitely were not friendly. They closed in on the garrison with a hurried speed, they broke threw the garrisons heavy wooden doors, sending them shrieking back on their hinges caked with rust.

"Were under attack!" One Knight called as he drew his sword.

Cedric rushed down the ramparts to meet the attackers, he called his men together and began to search threw the throngs of clashing swordsmen in a desperate effort to reach his brother. He could see the insignificant figure, a short sword in hand, a mounted soldier leaning from the saddle, his sword raised in a killed blow. Cedric was too late. The blade arced for Rowan, a loud clang rang out as steel met steel. Roland's sword tip flicked out to catch the blade before it reached Rowan. Cedric breathed a prayer of thanks as he raced to his brother and trusted friend.

The Battlemaster's already drawn sword began in a vicious arc for the mounted man's chest, the startled man threw up his round buckler just in time to catch the devastatingly powerful blow on his shield. The ring of steel filled the air.

The battle raged on.

* * *

"It's best if Strider tells the start of the story," Kerjack said solemnly. The girl had returned from the room, scrolls in hand, she now tucked them under one arm and took a coffee cup in each hand as Fell took the other three. Once the steaming mugs of coffee had been distributed Strider and Fell found their own seats at the table.

"They came without warning." Strider started, "One day it was calm, the next it was a new kind of hell. Dozens and dozens of them, they swarmed the towns and villages of the south and took everything they wanted by force. Most of the Cult are renegades or bandits who were given swords and told to kill. But as they took more villages and towns, a party of Knights from Gallica seized control of the group and forged them into the Cult we now know and fight today. For the villagers and townspeople it left them without lead. Many of them were enslaved or forced to join the ranks of the Cult. The more rebellious types, who refused to be beaten down and abused chose to rise up against the smothering hand of the Cult were killed. It was a very simple concept, slavery, or death. So we made an alternative."

"Those rebellious and sometimes arrogant and stubborn people gathered together and rose against the Cult, and this time, we were not silenced." Fell added.

"It started out with just one rebellious act. One burned camp of the Cult's and the Shadows were born. Those who participated in the legendary battle have fallen, but forgotten they'll never be. They spent one night as heroes, and changed the Cult forever. They had a bitter enemy now."

Kerjack nodded solemnly, "The Shadows and the Cult have been fighting for years, it's been a fairly even battle. The Shadows have always had the upper hand of surprise, with the night on our side we've had our share of heroic battles, both wins and loses…" As Kerjack trailed off Fell took up the line.

"It's war, and were losing. They've driven us north until we've ended up in Araluen. It was only recently it became clear of their intentions. They want the throne. And there going to take it by force." Fell's words died off into an uncomfortable silence.

Wary gazes shifted throughout the table. Seeing the opportunity had arisen Strider unfurled the scrolls, a large map of the west woods of Redmount was sketched across the parchment.

"There wasn't exactly much we could do about this when we first found this out," Strider told them. "What could we do exactly? Waltzing into the King's castle and letting him know that a group of Gallican Knight's wanted his head on a platter was a little unsubtle. Especially considering the fact that we would have preferred to walk out of the King's castle with our head on our shoulders. So we continued with our harassment of the Cult. They were at a huge disadvantage, the Shadows turned out to be a pretty dastardly opponent. Ambush after ambush we took more and more of them by storm. We fought alongside the men at the garrison the day it was taken…"

"We honored them after they had passed on. It was the least we could do. They fought a noble battle, but it was one sided. We lost good men that day." Fell continued. A thick mask of sadness swept it's way around the man as he spoke.

"Two nights after the Cult had the garrison, Fell led a group of Shadows on the attack. By midnight that night, there wasn't a single Cult member left. They never knew what hit them. That same night, Strider led another ambush group against a supply wagon on it's way to the garrison for the Cult. It was a profitable night for us." Kerjack explained.

"Along with the supply wagon there were detailed maps of the Cult's planned attack against the village. We've done all we could to forestall them, but we haven't much time left. The force they sent to the garrison today was an unusually large one. From the garrison they have a straight pathway to the village. It would be an easy village for them to take. Already the forces of the Shadows are stretched thin, we've only got a mere hundred soldiers in all, and only about thirty stationed here. If the Cult chose to attack the village, there would be little we could do about it."

Fell's eyes glimmered as he spoke, "But, now that there are Ranger's and Knight's of Araluen here, we just might stand a fighting chance."

"That's if the Cult's attacking the garrison don't decide to kill the Knights," Halt pointed out grimly.

Fell nodded, "Well yes, but there's a chance they might not do that. This time the Cult has sent a high ranking commander along with the party of Cult's to take the garrison. The commander lives for torture, so the Knights won't be killed right away." Fell was grinning at this. Nor Halt or Gilan shared in the mans happiness.

"This is supposed to be a good thing?" Gilan asked.

"Well of course it is," Strider chimed in, a devious look in her hazel eyes. "It gives us a possible chance for attack. They're not going to die by nightfall. If we can free those Knights and muster a small attack force of Shadows, we can drive the Cult away from the garrison."

Halt cocked an eyebrow at the energetic young girl, "I'm guessing that this attack will be tonight?"

A broad grin split the girls face, "You Ranger's catch on quick."

They spent the next half hour planning an attack route, and Halt and Gilan were surprised to discover who exactly led the Shadows.

"That would be Fell." Kerjack said, her eyes filling with pride. In response, Fell shrugged. Halt found the fact interesting. Fell was definitely a young leader, but he couldn't exactly judge the man's level of experience with fighting. He had never seen Fell, or, any of the other Shadows in combat.

"Strider's my deputy or second in command, but Kerjack plays a big role in the leadership too. We'd be lost without him." Fell added, and Strider nodded.

Halt had thought it odd for a leader to be so young, but to have the second in command just as young, and a girl left him clueless. The Shadows were definitely peculiar folk.

"What are you planning for an attack?" Gilan asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the four as they had sat leaning over the map.

"A typical night attack," Fell replied. "We sneak up on them and deal with them quickly." He replied, a hint of vehemence in his voice.

Halt cocked an eyebrow, "If this is typical, won't they anticipate it?" This time, it was Strider who answered.

"Not exactly, they're not going to know what attack were doing until we've got the upper hand." Strider said plainly before taking a long draft of coffee. She felt the warm drink slid down her throat all the way down. It was a great feeling, one you only got after a long day of snooping threw the forest.

"There isn't much more to it." Fell explained. "We swoop in like a bunch of phantoms from hell, attack them, and then watch them run off like scared dogs with their tails between their legs," He said, restating his earlier plan of the attack.

The dog, who had settled himself comfortably by the fire once more and was dozing with one ear pricked up, twitched at the word 'dogs'. Then, once more the dog slipped back into it's peaceful slumber.

"So that's it?" Halt asked, his eyes meeting that of the three Shadows in turn. They all seemed confident, there was little to add.

"That's it. There's still a few hours of daylight left, and we'll have to wait until the moon's out before we can leave. We should scout out the garrison and see how thing's went." Strider offered after an uncomfortable moment of silence.

Gilan nodded. "It would be great to find a good vantage point for us to shoot from. We prefer our bows over close combat."

"Alright, Strider, you go with them Kerjack and I will gather a group of Shadows for tonight." Fell said.

Strider's eyes were calm as she nodded, she stood and moved to the fireplace, stepping over the massive sleeping form of the dog. She took hold of what looked to be to be some sort of double scabbard, and began to make her way to do, the Ranger's following, then, she turned back and called softly to the dog.

"Ghost," The dog sat up, instantly alert. "Come on boy, let's go for a walk." The dog leapt to it's paws and fell in line with Strider. The lanky girl pushed the door open, and bided a quick farewell to Kerjack and Fell.

"You'll want your weapons back I'm assuming." The girl said as they stepped out into the bright sunlight that streamed down threw the clear blue sky.

"That would be nice." Halt said, not unkindly, already his gaze was scanning the clearing, they had left their weapons tied to their horses, and now the grizzled Ranger felt a sudden burst of comfort as he spotted the shaggy mounts at the far end of the clearing. A cloaked figure stood next to the horses, holding up a water bucket for Blaze to drink from. Halt quickly recognized the slightly built figure as Glade, Strider's apprentice.

Strider led the way towards the horses, Glade turned as he heard her approach and he had an inquiring look on his face.

"Going somewhere?" He asked casually, trying to hid his growing interest.

"Just out into the forest to do a bit of scouting."

Glade's eyes lit up, "Can I go with you?" Strider was already shaking her head solemnly.

"Not today, I'm going to lead the Ranger's back to the garrison, we'll be back soon though. I'll tell you what though, tomorrow morning we'll go scouting. Just you and me. I promise kid." At this Glade smiled, his earlier disappointment forgotten.

"Ok." He said, and now his gaze shifted to the Ranger's, his smile faded. Glade shuffled sideways nervously.

Gilan smiled encouragement at the boy, "I'm Gilan," he said, "And this is Halt." Glade nodded, his eyes showed his bewilderment.

"Your really Ranger's huh?" He asked, and Gilan nodded.

Glade's gaze shifted back to Strider, who had buckled one of the scabbards to her belt at her right hip, and was busy fastening the other one to her right thigh.

"You've really done it this time." Glade said, a humorous spark in his innocent blue eyes. Strider looked up at him slowly.

"That's exactly what Kerjack said." Strider exclaimed. "Am I really that bad?" Glade thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Yep." He smiled brightly, and Strider rolled her eyes.

"Apprentices." She said dismissively, but her hazel eyes deceived her, they danced with happiness.

Halt gathered his weapons from Abelard's saddle, he patted the horses neck with gratitude. Glade had already loosened the girth straps, and now the horse lapped appreciatively from the water bucket as Glade held it towards the horse. Halt noticed the care in Glade's eyes.

"Thanks for looking after Abelard," Halt said softly.

"Don't mention it." Glade replied calmly. "I enjoy being around horses."

Strider had finished tightening the scabbard to her thigh and now she experimentally drew both knives, one in each hand, satisfied, she replaced them to their rightful sheaths. Halt and Gilan had already fastened their own weapons to their belts.

"We should get going, night falls fast these days." Strider told them before they began to make their way back across the clearing to the hidden entrance, marked only by a weathered rock. The mottled grey and black shape of Ghost raced ahead of them, leading the way out into the forest.

* * *

Cedric winced as pain throbbed in his head. His eyes opened briefly, and he could see the face of someone, leaning over him. He recognized the young tan face to belong to Roland. Then everything came back to Knight in a rush.

The battle, they'd lost, he realized with a start. The attackers outnumbered them, seeing that the tide of the battle was raging against them, they went down fighting. The attackers imprisoned four of the Knights, the others hadn't been so lucky.

"Cedric, you alright?" Roland asked, blurring in and out of focus and Cedric stared up at him.

"I think so…" Cedric replied weakly. Pain seared threw his head, and he remembered his last few moments of consciousness. The hilt of sword, slamming into the back of his head seemed so long ago, feeling the ground slam into him, hearing Rowan's cry of terror.

"Where's Rowan?" Cedric asked suddenly, struggling to sit up. His hands were bound behind his back tightly, and he found it very difficult to move at all.

"He's alright," Roland replied. Cedric sighed, he leaned back against the rough masonry of the garrison wall and took a good look around. Roland and the rest of the Knight's were clustered around him, along with Rowan, who had a stricken look on his face.

Burly men walked the ramparts. Cedric recognized them as the attackers, and he quickly took note of the insignia on each of the surcoats they wore. They belonged to a lord. Close to the Knights, but tantalizingly far from reach, lay their weapons. Swords and daggers.

One lonely guard stood watch over the prisoners, standing stiffly next to the disorganized stack of weapons.

Something was missing, Cedric realized. Someone was missing. Then it hit him, Halt and Gilan. They hadn't been at the garrison during the attack. Cedric looked around quickly, taking in everything about the garrison two times over before giving up. They weren't there.

Leaning close to Roland, Cedric spoke quietly to him.

"The Ranger's, they haven't come back yet, have they?"

Roland shook his head. "No, they haven't, the best we can do is hope that they get help." Cedric nodded his agreement before falling silent.

"What do we do now?" Rowan asked in a fear stressed voice.

Cedric met his brothers gaze evenly. "There's nothing we can do but wait."

* * *

"You Ranger's are really uninteresting." Strider said dully. Gilan frowned.

"Uninteresting?" He echoed and Strider nodded.

"We've been walking for a good ten minutes and neither of you have said a word. I've always heard about how Ranger's are these amazingly foreboding kind of people, but your just plain boring." The girl stopped briefly, then continued, "No offence of course."

Gilan's frown deepened. "This isn't exactly the best time to be chatting away."

Strider stopped to meet his gaze. "Why not?" Her hazel eyes probed the young Ranger's face as he replied.

"Were on out way to a garrison, full of unfriendly foes. We don't want them to hear us coming."

Strider let out a short laugh of contempt. "We've got another good fifteen minutes of walking to do before were out of the range of the Shadows sentries, then another ten to reach the garrison. I think were just outside the range of earshot." She pointed out, and Halt found the sardonic tone of her voice all too evident. Gilan shared his opinion, but the girl was right.

"Alright then, what exactly do you want to talk about?"

Strider thought for a moment, "That's for you to decide. We told you about us Shadows, now what about you? What are Ranger's like?"

Halt answered this time. "Were quiet."

"You couldn't give a girl a break and just humor me?" A toothy grin spread across the girl's pale features. Gilan noticed the humorous glint in the girl's hazel eyes.

"Not likely." Halt retorted. Strider met Halt's gaze for a moment before speaking.

"Alright then, is there anything else you want to know about the Shadows?"

"Do all Shadows talk this much?" Halt replied without any hesitation, his voice was grim. The conversation might have stopped there, but defiantly, Strider continued to talk.

"When they're ignored they do." Strider met Halt's gaze once more, her eyes sparked a challenge. This time Halt neglected to reply in a tone suited to wake the dead.

"Why did you come after us today?" He asked, finally giving into the unrelenting prodding of Strider.

"We need the help." She said simply, then continued after a moment of silence. "When I was at the garrison earlier today, I wanted to get a closer look at just who was at the garrison. I left Glade waiting in the forest, and went back, just for a glance. That's when I saw you. It was a shot in the dark, but then again, us Shadows are pretty good with that. So I told Kerjack what I thought before I went after you."

Halt thought what Strider had said threw, then he asked another question. "What about Fell? Why did he show up?"

Strider shrugged, and let out a short chuckle. "Why does he ever show up?" She joked, then she became a little more serious. "He wasn't even supposed to be here. Since were stretched thin with troops, we all shift around. Fell had gone south to lend some help to another group of Shadows. He came back a little early, but I can't tell you why or how he found us."

There were several moments of silence as Halt contemplated what to ask next.

"Why are you helping us?"

Strider shrugged. "Isn't it you who's helping us?" She asked, and turned to meet the gaze of Halt. She grinned, and for a moment Halt thought she was right.

"I guess we are." He said.

"There's still something missing," Gilan began. "If the Shadows have been around for as long as you say, then why haven't we even heard of you? I mean, you've been practically fighting a war in this forest and we've been oblivious to it all."

Strider stopped and looked back at Gilan. "They call this forest the grieving woods." She said solemnly. "The wind howls with the cry of the fallen, the ground is forever stained with the shed of blood and tears alike. They say this place is not suited for the living. In turn, we are little more than spirits, ghosts if you will, you may live your whole life in this forest and you may never see a Shadow." She paused, her gaze leveling with each of the Ranger's before she continued.

"I went looking for the both of you, and luckily I found you before the Cult did."

"I've seen you before, last night in fact. You were at the edge of the forest, near the village." Gilan asked. A guilty look clouded over Strider's eyes.

"We like to keep a close eye on the village," She replied, not giving much away.

"Why?" Gilan prodded.

Strider's eyes flickered dully, and for a moment Gilan thought he saw a hint of sorrow their. Then it was gone, replaced by a defiant shield against any emotion.

"The villagers live in fear, from us. From me, and every other Shadow that walks this forest. We provoke it, on purpose, we want them to stay away from this forest. So we've made them believe the worst."

Halt frowned, but their was something else he was curious of. "From what you've told us, you're here to help them, to keep them safe. Why keep them away?"

Strider shrugged. "It's not us they need to be wary of, it's the Cult, but it's easier to fear someone like me than trust her." The girls eyes brightened, she grinned slightly, and Gilan found the action resplendent. Though it might seem drastic, Gilan realized she was right. It would be easier to keep the villagers away by simply scaring them off, rather then trying to explain the tricky situation they were in.

"That's pretty rough." Gilan said sympathetically.

"It's not all that bad, it's rather entertaining to be a ghost." Strider retorted, brightening a little.

Halt shot Strider an inquiring look. "I'm guessing this is a regular thing then, for you to make your self seen at the forest edge."

"We do it as much as possible, sometimes we creep threw the village with daggers drawn, or just stand at the forest edge. So far, it's worked out pretty well."

The dog, who had up until now trotted ahead of them calmly now stopped and looked back at Strider, one ear pricked keenly.

"Looks like we've reached the river." She said, and Halt was suddenly away of a throaty rumbling from somewhere in the forest.

"The Faladore river you mean?" Gilan asked, and Strider nodded.

"That's the one, but we just call it the roaring river."

The trees thinned suddenly, and ahead Halt could see the wide sandy bank of the river. On some parts of the bank heavy slabs of grey weathered river rocks jutted out into the water. The water, white with foam, raged alarmingly fast along the banks. The river swept along in a rather straight path. On the far side of the river their were no trees, only a wide sweeping plain of coarse grass.

"This is the edge of the woods," Strider explained, turning around to face the Ranger's.

"Then why are we here?" Halt asked, his suspicion growing.

"I just thought it would be convenient for you to know what fate awaited you if you turned everything you now know of the Shadows against us." Strider's eyes darkened.

"We've agreed to help you, but that doesn't mean that you aren't are enemies as well. Your as much of a threat to us as the Cult is at this point. For the moment, it looks as though were allies, but up until now, Araluen has known nothing of us. If our secrecy is compromised once this is over, you'll be the first I throw into the raging water."

From the look of it, the roaring of the river, and the way the water slammed into the banks, Gilan didn't think that it would be easy to swim against the roaring torrent.

"What if you chose to give up your secrecy?" Halt challenged and Strider smiled.

"I'll throw myself into the river. Now do we have a understanding?" She asked with a note of finality. The tawny colored eyes lost their vehemence as the Ranger's nodded their reluctant agreement. From Halt's point of view he found the girl to be speaking in a tone that implied a promise rather than a threat. Besides, from the looks of it, the lithe figure before them just might be able to live up to the promise.

"Alright then, we have a garrison to scout out." The girl said before turning back to the forest trail, this time Strider pulled the cowl of her cloak around her and gestured for silence.


	9. Chapter 9

**OK so this is lately posted, so it's a little longer than the other chapters. I'll be posting more often now though, I had a school project recently so it hampered my progress...**

**Happy late Halloween!**

**R&R It's greatly appreciated!**

* * *

Halt was perched on a tree branch overlooking the garrison. From where he was in the sheltered canopy of the pin tree he could see the front of the garrison and the interior. He had picked out Cedric easily, the Battlemaster's blonde hair was easily spotted against the dreary looking masonry of the garrison. Not far away, in another tree, Halt could spot the mottled shape of Gilan. He too was intent on watching the garrison.

From what Halt had observed, the Cult's, as Strider called the attackers, had been fair opponents. Two of the Knight's of Meric lay ominously still, only four remained, along with one fear stricken apprentice. Strider had told them it could have been worse, and Halt wasn't sure if he believed the girl. He glanced around warily, looking for the slim shouldered shape. He spotted Strider, flanked by the shadows of the forest. A furry shape stood guard next to the girl. Halt remembered the promise they had made.

Before they had reached the garrison Strider had stopped and warned them that helping the Knights while they were scouting could be fatal, for both the Knights' and the Ranger's.

"And what about you?" Gilan had asked, "Won't that be bad for you to?"

Strider let out a snort of contempt, "Fire one arrow and I'll be gone before it strikes it's target." She told them. Gilan was unsure if Strider had been sincere or not, but frankly, he had no intentions of finding out.

So in turn, they were forced to watch helplessly as the Knights were held captive. Halt looked up, the sun was sinking in the sky. There was a soft knock on the tree trunk and Halt looked down.

"Time to go." Strider said in a scarcely audible whisper.

* * *

The Shadow encampment was alive with activity when the scouting party had returned. More Shadows were present as the darkness began to fall over the forest, some sat around by fires, sharpening long daggers, or sparing with each other energetically.

As they entered the camp they were quickly greeted by Fell. He had a devilish grin on his young face as he approached the Ranger's and Strider.

"Were almost ready, you might as well take this time to prepare. We won't have time to eat before we leave, so you'll have to settle for this." Fell held up a woolen sack, and threw the gaping opening at the top, Halt could see the bright red skins of Apples. Fell passed the bag to Strider, who took an apple and passed it along to Halt.

"When do we leave?" Gilan asked, his fingers were itching with anxiety. He wished more than ever to be back at the garrison, but this time, he would have liked to have his bow in his hands, and an arrow nocked to the string.

"When the moon shows it's face above the clearing we'll be set." Fell told them before he made his way off to finish the arrangements for the attack.

Strider led them to a vacant fire and slumped against a log. They had only been their a few moments when a cheerful young face greeted them.

"How'd it go?" Glade asked energetically as he took a place beside his mentor. The dog laid by the fire, the flickering flames reflecting in the green eyes.

"Good." Strider said, biting into an apple. "I'm guessing Kerjack kept you busy while we were gone?"

Glade nodded, "He always does." Then he turned to look at the Ranger's, that questioning look on his tan face, then he looked back at his mentor.

"Am I going to tonight?" The question was sudden, and Strider shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground. She shrugged.

"I'm not really sure that's up to me. Fell's organizing the raid, not me." Strider wouldn't meet Glade's pleading gaze.

"I asked him, he told me to ask you. He said that I was your apprentice, so it was your decision."

Strider shrugged again, several moments of uncomfortable silence passed before she spoke again.

"Alright, you can come with us." Strider said crisply.

Glade's face lit up and he thanked his mentor excitedly as Gilan passed him an apple. Several more moments of silence passed. The only sound was the crackling of the fire wood and the muffled sound of movement among the camp.

Suddenly there was a shout from behind the small group, and they turned to see a tall muscular figure making his way towards them. The brawny man had a tan face with deep brown eyes that seemed to have fathomless depths. He had short brown hair that accented his eyes, even in the messy distortion it was in.

"Long time no see, eh Strider?" He said in an even voice. His tone was light, and Gilan estimated his age at somewhere around twenty, at the least. He had a thin line of a scar on his left cheek, running from his forehead to his chin. Like Strider, he wore a ghostly cloak and a dark tunic. His trousers were tucked neatly into the tops of his boots. A thick blade was buckled to his right hip.

Strider grinned back at the tall man and ushered him closer to the fire. He settled himself next to Glade and smiled warmly at the apprentice and the unfamiliar Ranger's.

"This is Gilan and Halt, their Ranger's of Araluen." Strider told him.

He nodded his head to each of the Ranger's. "Well I'll be damned, I'd heard a rumor that Strider was stirring up trouble but I didn't think it was this bad."

Strider shot him a sharp look and the man grinned, continuing on.

"I'm Marek, named after the fief of Meric." He explained. "Nice to make the acquaintance of you both." The toothy grin never left his face as he added, "Now take her away for her sins." He gestured to Strider.

She rolled her eyes to the heavens, a ghost of a grin touching her features. Then, as silenced threatened to close in once more, she struck up a conversation.

"You know about the assault tonight I'm guessing?" Strider questioned Marek.

He nodded, "Sure do, I plan on attending."

Strider frowned, "You just got back, are you sure your up for it?"

Marek let out a barking laugh, "Up for it? Why wouldn't I be? You only set me away for a little thievery."

Halt looked at Marek sharply. "Thievery?" He asked darkly, his gaze swiveled to meet that of Strider's. A question was brewing in his grim eyes.

"Yeah," Marek began, he looked at Strider. "Fell said you told them about us."

Strider shrugged, "I sort of left that part out…"

Halt grimaced, "What part?" He asked, already suspecting the answer.

Strider shifted uncomfortably under the gazes lock on her.

"Remember how I told you we like to keep a close eye on the village?" Halt and Gilan nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"That's not the only reason we take such a great interest in the village. We also… Well, we take from them, when we need to."

Halt felt a surge of fury.

"Your thieves?"

Strider looked up sharply, her hazel eyes glinted defensively. "It's not like that, we only take what we absolutely need."

"That would be stealing." Halt reminded her.

"It's rather justified, considering were keeping them out of the fire while we burn." Marek added, to the Shadows defense.

Halt shook his head in disagreement. "So it's alright to let the village live in fear so you can steal them blind?"

"What do you expect? Were out here putting our lives on the line, losing everything, it's the best we could do to provide for ourselves." Strider said calmly.

Glaring at her Halt replied, "How does that make it alright?" He questioned, and Strider's eyes lost their fury.

She bit back the offensive reply that sprang to her lips. "It doesn't," Strider admitted, "I was a thief before I was a Shadow, I was a lot of trouble for a lot of people and I've done my share of dark deeds. It's not something I'm proud of, but I'm willing to put that aside, I'd steal the King's seal right off his hand if it meant the Shadows would be well fed and cared for."

Halt stayed silent this time, the loyalty Strider vowed to show was surprising, even if she was a thief. She seemed worthy of a little admiration. The tension in the air was soon broken by Glade. He looked at this mentor curiously.

"Could you really steal the King's seal?" He asked.

Strider shrugged dismissively. "It wouldn't be worth the try."

Marek leaned back against a stump of a tree. "I have to disagree. That would be one hell of a profit."

Strider rolled her eyes at him, it was a gesture she used often in his presence.

"Well… Since their seems to be some time to kill before we lay the gutter scum of the garrison to waste… Who wants to spar?" Marek's gaze searched the small ring of members gathered around he fire. None of them spoke. After a moment or two of silence Strider shrugged and stood.

"Alright, loser sharpens the winners weapons." At that Strider unclasped her cloak and dropped it by the fire, then she unbuckled her weapons, adding two long bladed daggers and a dirk stuffed into her left boot onto the pile. Marek followed suit. Next, the two Shadows moved to stand across from each other, standing a few yards away from the fire but still in ranger of it's flickering glow. They spent a few moments stretching before they began to fight. Gilan and Halt watched closely. Marek and Strider stood face to face for a moment before they began, Marek feinted forward, and Strider fell into a defensive position, Halt was reminded of a prowling cat at the movement.

Once more Marek feinted towards Strider, this time Strider stepped back, and Marek moved closer. He went on the offense, his right arm darted out, grabbing Strider's left wrist. Marek's grip was tight, and he pulled Strider towards him. Strider grinned wolfishly, she had anticipated this. She grabbed his own wrist with her free hand. Stepping close to Marek, her right foot in his path, she jerked him forward and hurled him over her hip. He landed with a heavy thud on the other side of Strider.

A wide grin spread across Marek's face as he rolled to his feet. The fight continued. Halt watched, entranced in the dance like grace of the two fighters. They would surge forward and engage in close combat, before springing apart to circle one another once more. Marek stood at least a head taller than Strider, and his broad shoulder were almost double that of Strider. The fight looked almost one sided, at first. Halt was quick to realize were Strider lacked in strength and in size was made up for in her agile and swift movements. Any time Marek began to get the best of the girl she slipped out of his grasp.

The fight ended as Marek grabbed Strider in a firm headlock. "Aha! I gotcha!" He shouted triumphantly, then with a grunt of defiance, Strider grabbed Marek's own neck and slipped her right foot behind Marek's left. She knocked his foot free from the ground and used his own weight against him.

They on the ground, grinning and laughing as they rose to their feet. They shook hands as they dusted off. Clearly, the agreement for the sparing match had been forgotten.

"Good fight." Commented Gilan as they settled once more around the fire.

Glade passed Marek a water skin, which he accepted gratefully, he drank his fill and passed it to Strider, who did the same.

"Feels good to practice." Marek said with a long sigh. He lounged lazily, leaning back tiredly against the tree stump.

"Yeah," Strider stiffened a yawn. "I'm gonna take a quick nap. If any one needs anything, bother Marek." She grinned as she rolled her cloak into a ball, using it as a makeshift pillow. Then she stretched out alongside the fire, enjoying the calm aurora of the Shadow encampment.

"You know, your allowed to talk…" Marek said after a long silence.

"We prefer not to." Halt retorted blandly.

"I've noticed," Marek told him, "There's no reason to be so quiet, us Shadows don't bite."

Halt nor Gilan replied.

"Is it the fact that were thieves?" Marek asked, propping himself up on one elbow to glare at the Ranger's.

"No, it's not that." This time it was Gilan that replied, though he was unsure how to explain the silence from the mute Ranger's.

"Then what is it?" Marek prodded. Gilan shrugged.

"Were just not talkative. We like to keep to ourselves."

Marek sighed and rolled onto his back. "If your worried about your Knightly friends, you shouldn't be. We'll bust'em out of the garrison, it's no sweat."

Halt rolled his eyes, "Were not worried." His voice was sharp and had a dangerous edge to it. Marek seemed to take the hint.

"Fine then, I'll just be quiet now." Reluctantly, Marek ceased his chatting and hummed softly to himself. Glade had begun to sharpen his weapons, and Gilan and Halt were quietly mending arrows from their quivers. Suddenly Strider sat up. The dog, who had been resting peacefully with it's massive head on it's paws, looked sharply up at her.

"Did you hear that?" She asked to no one in particular.

Marek frowned, he hadn't heard anything, and from the dumbfounded looks that surrounded the fire, neither had anyone else. There was nothing but the common sounds of the camp, the crackling of camp fires, the shuffling of bodies among the night, and the occasional bouts of laughter.

"Hear what?" Marek asked.

Strider looked around, and seeing no one else had heard an unusual sound she shrugged.

"Never mind, it was just the wind…" Then, deciding that she'd rested quite long enough, she rose to her feet. "I'm gonna go lend a hand to Fell." As she walked off to find the leader of the Shadows the dog, who had taken up a position as little more than a mass of unmoving fur by the fire, sprang to his feet to trot happily after the girl.

* * *

Almost an hour had passed before Strider returned. Many of the Shadows who had gathered at fires scattered threw out the camp had begun to rise from their spots, some stretched, while others checked that their weapons were secure. Strider approached silently, her cloak and weapons had remained by the fire and now she gathered them up.

"Time to go." She told them, saying the same thing she'd said after their scouting of the garrison was done. Marek stood, checked his weapons on his belt, and shrugging his shoulder several times. Halt settled his quiver comfortably onto his shoulder, and Gilan fastened his sword to his waist. Strider pulled her cloak around her and fastened the clasp. Added to her long daggers at her right hip and thigh, she slid the dirk into her boot.

"This way," She said, leading the small group over to a crowd of Shadows that had gathered by the frail looking tree in the center of the clearing. Fell stood atop a small boulder, overseeing the crowd. The Shadows were silent as they awaited for their leader to speak.

"Alright, we'll be assaulting the garrison tonight, it's been retaken by the Cult, and were going to take it back. There are Knights, of Araluen trapped inside, and with us, here are Ranger's of Araluen." He got no further before he was interrupted.

"Ranger's?" Called a figure standing in the mass of Shadows. Halt had done a swift head count. There were only about fifteen in all.

Fell continued "Yes, were going to help them free their comrades from the-"

"Help them? Why should we help them? For all we know they might be our enemies as well. Who says they won't be keen to stab us in the back? We owe them nothing." The same Shadow was speaking.

Slightly irritated, Fell replied.

"Our fight lies with the Cult, not the Ranger's, or anyone else who serves King Duncan. Were in their forest, the least we could do is show a little bit of gratitude."

There was no reply to Fell's retort, and finally, he continued on with the details of the assault.

"We'll be split into two groups, group one will be led by me, group two by Strider. The Ranger's will call the start of the assault. Once their first arrows strike their targets, we move. Group two, you'll go first, you'll be attacking from the East and North walls, group one will follow after, from the West and South walls. Alright, split up."

Without another word the Shadows formed two even groups, moving to stand around their designated leaders for the assault. Strider turned the Ranger's, "Your with me, when we reach the garrison you'll be on your own."

A surge of excitement filled the party of Shadows, and they murmured amongst themselves before Fell called over them.

"Everybody stay sharp! Watch each other's backs', and try not to die. I don't like funerals!" There was a slight chuckle as Fell finished, then they began to move.

The group split, Fell led his own party out, and Strider followed behind them. Once they had reached the edge of the forest, Fell moved towards Strider, he put a hand on his deputy's shoulder, they locked gazes. They didn't speak, the silence some how did that for them. Fell nodded to his deputy, then he turned to lead his group off into the night.

"Stay close to me," She murmured quietly to the Ranger's before she began to trek threw the brush.

* * *

Halt's bow was drawn, an arrow nocked to the lightly oiled string. The feathered end brushed the corner of his mouth lightly. The arrows broad head gleamed in the moonlight, he had the arrow trained on the chest of a surly looking Cult who paced the Ramparts of the garrison.

The torches mounted in brackets on the rough wall of the garrison cast a glimmering yellow glow for the Ranger to shoot by. So far, he had yet to loose an arrow. He was perched on a sturdy branch in an oak tree, nestled comfortably in the fork of the branch. From where he was, he could see Gilan, The Shadows, and everyone in the garrison, at a glimpse. He'd spotted Cedric, and Strider had explained the Shadows plan of attack to the Ranger's once they had reached the garrison.

"You'll take first shot, once you've loosed your first arrow the Shadows will attack, we'll free the Knights as quickly as possible and try to make this battle short lived." After Strider had finished, she had slunk off towards the wall of the garrison. The rest of the Shadows were already in position for the attack. The heavy doors of the garrison were closed, but the Shadows had planned another way to barge into the garrison. They planned to scale the walls, and so far it didn't seem they would have much trouble doing so. The walls of the garrison had plenty of cracks and crevices in the masonry to serve as many hand and foot holds.

Bright white moonlight washed over the trees, Halt glanced up, clouds had scuttled away from the moon, he grimaced. There was a sharp hiss and a deep thrum as he let the bow string slip gently from his fingers. A black shafted arrow arced for one of the many Cult on the ramparts. The man screamed, and fell to the ramparts, a silence settled over him, the rest of the garrison suddenly erupted into chaos as the attack began.

* * *

Rowan was huddled close to Cedric, his wrists, arms, and shoulders all ached from the strain of having his hands bound behind his back for so long. He was afraid, and it seemed futile to try to hide the fear that was eating at him on the inside. He wondered what the men who had attacked the garrison planned to do with them. He silently prayed for a way out of the situation they were in.

Sooner than he thought, he prayers were answered. A man on the ramparts dropped from above, and landed alarmingly close to the Knights on his back. A long, black shafted arrow was embedded in his chest. He was dead.

Suddenly their were figures, moving along the ramparts, daggers gleamed in the moonlight. The night erupted into a battle.

* * *

Strider pulled herself over the wall, landing with both feet on the wooden ramparts. She drew her knives as a Cult spotted her. He drew his sword from his scabbard at his waist and charged for her. With her hood and mask up, she went on the defense. She crossed her long daggers to block the bandits first heavy down stroke. Then, moving quickly, she slid one of her blades free, and slammed the hilt of it into the side of the man's head. His eyes rolled back and he swayed sideways before falling from the ramparts.

Warily, Strider glanced over her shoulder, Glade had made it up the wall behind her, and now she ushered him towards the ladder.

"Let's free the Knights!" She shouted over the clashing of steel in the night. Reluctantly, Glade hurried after his mentor. The ramparts had already been cleared. More Shadows bustled along their lengths fighting their own battles. Strider slipped down the ladder swiftly, Glade following her precise movements.

They had just about reached the Knights, when a Cult member flung himself towards them.

"Keep going!" Strider yelled to Glade, her daggers were a silver arc to parry a sword stroke. Glade listened complied, swallowing hard as he moved to the Knights, he pulled down his face mask and tossed back his hood, showing the Knights he wasn't a ghost or a phantom, but a young boy. He pulled his dagger free of it's scabbard, the Knight nearest him looked frightened.

"I'm not gonna hurt you… No one wearing a cloak is going to. I promise…" Glade muttered reassuring words to the Knights as he slit their bonds in a brisk manor.

Once he was done he looked for his mentor, he spotted the familiar shape, fending off a Cult. The man was wielding a heavy looking broadsword, and every slash and cut that Strider blocked jarred from her fingertips to her shoulders. She clenched her teeth, staggering back several paces. Glade was prepared to help, but someone else beat him to it.

Cedric rose to his feet, his eyes hardening as he grabbed a sword from the pile of weapons in front of him. There were only a few swords, and Cedric hardly looked at his as his hand closed around the hilt.. He discarded the scabbard before he moved forward.

Strider took a final heavy down slash from her attacker, blocking it just in time. The force drove one of her blades from her hand. Her opponent wasted no time, he stepped forward and swung the hilt of his sword forward, it caught Strider in the jaw, the force of the blow sent her sprawling back in the dirt. The Cult might have killed her then and there if Cedric's sword had flicked out to block the man's next stroke.

There was a loud clang of steel on steel as their blades met and locked together. They stood hilt to hilt, body to body as some called it. Cedric took the moment and launched a heavy right hook at his opponent. It hit the man squarely in the chin, he dropped backwards, hitting the ground and falling into certain unconsciousness.

Cedric turned to see the fallen figure of Strider staggering to her feet. She waved a hand in thanks, and Cedric nodded in compliance. Without another moment to waste, Strider gathered her knives once more and ushered Glade towards her. Cedric watched as they slipped into the struggle of the skirmish. He didn't know who they were, but for the time being, they were allies, and they had a battle to fight.

Glade crossed his knives to block the poor side cut from the battered Cult before them. The mans short sword stopped mid swing as it clashed with Glade's own blades. Before the Cult could withdraw his short sword he was disarmed neatly by Strider. With a flick of her daggers she caught them under the swords hilt and jerked it out of the Cult members hand. Glade stepped forward and slammed the hilt of his right dagger into the Cults' temple. He dropped like a rock.

Around the garrison the remaining Cults' were meeting similar fates. The tide of the battle had turned, and now the Knights, along with the Shadows, were taking the upper hand. As the last Cult member slumped to the ground unmoving, the garrison fell silent.

Hesitantly, the Knights moved to one side of the garrison, putting distance between them and the mysterious fighters before them. After a quick look, Cedric realized that they really did look similar to ghosts, standing in the flickering firelight, their faces obscured by cloaks and masks.

Breaking the ranks of the cloaked figures Fell took the lead, he moved forward, and pushed back his cowl and tugged down his mask. To the Knights he looked perfectly human, though he was a little bit on the rugged side. Around him, the rest of the Shadows began to do the same. To the Knights relief, they all seemed to be human as well.

"I'm Fell, leader of The Shadows," He said, holding out a hand in greeting. He kept a friendly composure and Cedric decided to return the favor. The burly Knight stepped forward and shook Fell's hand.

"I'm Cedric, Battlemaster of Meric."

"Nice to- AH!" Fell staggered sideways, he pulled his right hand away from Cedric and clutched his right side. Pain lanced threw his side, beneath his cloak he could feel a splotch of growing wetness. He pulled his hand away, blood covered his hand. He swayed, the world twisted and spun, he vaguely remembered a slash to his side early on in the battle. He began to fall forwards, Cedric caught him, lowering him to the ground he could see the dark splotch on Fell's tunic.

Marek and Strider rushed forward, narrowly avoiding being trampled by the herd of Shadows that followed. Already there was sweat beaded on their leader's forehead, his eyes were beginning to glaze as the pain consumed him. Marek pushed Fell's cloak back, unclasping it. The tunic underneath was slit on the right side, and the cloak had concealed the full extent of the wound. Blood had seeped threw the tunic and run down Fell's side. Strider pulled the shirt up, revealing a ragged gash in Fell's side. It stretched from his naval down to waistline in a diagonal arc. From the looks of it, it wasn't very deep.

Cedric reached for his first aid kit, he'd brought it with him and stored it in a small pouch on his belt. It consisted of a decent amount of healing salve, a suture and thread, and a thick roll of bandages.

Fell reached out desperately, and he caught hold of Strider's forearm. He found her hand and held it tightly, he gritted his teeth against the pain. Strider could see the fear in her leader's eyes. Fell watched the world fade to black before his eyes.

* * *

The remaining wounded soldiers were tended to, the Ranger's had returned to the garrison, soon after Fell had collapsed. The surviving Cult Members had been tied up, some of them had even regained consciousness. They watched the Shadows and Knights threw narrowed eyes.

Besides Fell, there were only minor injuries among the warriors. One of them being Strider. Her upper arm had been slashed, and she'd roughly bandaged it once Fell was safely out of harms way. Her jaw ached painfully, and she could feel a bruise forming from where she'd been hit with the hilt of a sword. The Knights had been tended to, and the Ranger's had safely evaded harm.

To her relief the Ranger's had filled the Knights in on the major details of the Shadows. They seemed to feel better knowing that the Shadows meant them no harm. It made the Shadows feel better too, and they had mingled with the Knights, sharing stories of previous battles and their greatest acts.

"Have you had your jaw checked?" Halt asked her as she slumped down along the wall next to him. His voice has grim as ever, and Strider was beginning to see that he was a very quiet person.

She shrugged. "I don't think it's broken…" Strider had the blood of a thief and a liar, but she preferred to avoid the truth instead of lying threw her teeth when possible.

Halt could see that her half hearted reply was meant to avoid the truth, so he chose to take matters into his own hands. He could tell Strider was unsettled by her leaders sudden injury, and decided Strider could use the helping hand.

"I'm going to assume that's a no." He retorted, leaning closer to Strider to properly examine her jaw. He turned her chin up with his hand, she winced. His rough hand felt along the line of her jaw, all the while Strider gritted her teeth against the pain. Finally, he stopped.

"It doesn't seem to be broken." Halt informed her quietly as he finished.

Strider looked at him crossly, "You could have fooled me."

Halt ignored her, moving on to her injured arm, he unwound the inadequate bandages, and examined the wound closely. Strider fidgeted uncomfortably at his touch.

"Still," Halt warned her and Strider remained unmoving as the Ranger gently applied a healing salve and wrapped her arm in clean bandages. Once he had finished Strider thanked him and let out a long sigh. Her gaze wandered to the sky, and she watched the moon, admiring it's elegant beauty.

"When do you think you'll move back to the encampment?" Halt asked as he fletched an arrow that had been damaged during the battle..

"I'm not sure," Strider admitted, "Fell didn't really say what he wanted us Shadows to do. I guess it's really up to you. It's your garrison after all."

Halt took a moment to ponder his thoughts. Having the Shadows around would be handy if there was another attack, but just how loyal were they? There was no telling how far they would go to help the Knights, if they were not helping themselves.

"How long do you think Fell will let you stay?" Halt said finally.

"I think he wouldn't mind how long I stayed. He's got to rest, and until he's healed Kerjack's not going to let him out of his sight for anything. In turn, all Fell's responsibilities are going to rest on my shoulders for the time being." There was bitter displeasure in Strider's voice, and Halt cocked an eyebrow at her in question.

"You don't like responsibility?"

Strider looked uncomfortable, she stirred the dirt with one booted foot carefully.

"No, I don't. Responsibilities mean commitments, and commitments mean being civilized most of the time. Being civilized means abiding by laws, and never stepping out of line. That's definitely not me."

Amused, Halt continued to prod at Strider. "Then just how did you end up as the Shadows deputy?"

There was a dismissive shrug from Strider, and Halt almost didn't expect to get a reply. She gave vent to a long sigh, and for a moment Halt was reminded of a lost child.

"I have no idea."

* * *

The Shadows stayed the night, taking turns walking the ramparts and switching off as sentries with the Knights. The rest had gathered together around a fire built in the center of the garrison. It was small, but it served well as a cooking fire. The Knights made hearty stews, while the Shadows passed around a bag of apples and richly harvested coffee beans.

Cedric found the Shadows choices of meals rather depressing. He could hardly believe that they would decline a aromatic stew, to a cup of coffee and a ripe apple. Despite his doubts, Cedric didn't question them, he already found them odd enough. Of the oddest, Cedric had to say it was their deputy. The deputy happened to be a woman, a _girl_, he corrected himself. He found it hard to believe that the short, slightly built figure was a warrior of any sort, to say the least. Something about her simply did not sit right with Cedric, and he found it easy to distrust the girl.

The burly Knight was leaning against the masonry wall, seated underneath one of the wooden ramparts. He had just finished his first watch of the night, and was glad to be relieved of duty. Cedric as if he'd been dropped from the wall of the garrison, straight into solid dirt. Every part of him ebbed with pain. His muscles were sore and becoming stiff. He had just closed his eyes when he heard the shouting. Cedric's eyes snapped open, he located the source of the disruption with ease.

Roland was standing in front of a Shadow at least six inches shorter than himself. The smaller man's face was tight with anger, his eyes simmered with rage. Roland was in a similar state, and Cedric felt a sinking feeling. The last thing they needed was a fight, and he had a feeling he was just about to get one. Swiftly Cedric pushed himself to his feet, noticing the Knights of Meric gathering at Roland's back to support him, the Shadows were doing the same thing for their own comrade.

"Filthy thief!" Roland roared at the Shadow. Behind him, the Knights of Meric chorused their agreement.

"Murderous coward!" The Shadow yelled back. Now Cedric was closer, and could make out the words of the yells. He moved quickly, and to his surprise he saw the Shadows deputy calming her own soldiers. Strider slipped in between Roland and the Shadow called Jag. She looked hesitant, and put an arm around each mans shoulder. The gesture was awkward, She barely came up to Roland's shoulders in height. She smiled in spite of it.

"No reason to get overworked, it was just a game of dice, no big deal. It was all in good fun right?" Strider's words trailed off into silence. Roland shrugged her hand away from him and Strider took a step back from the Knight. He looked like he could snap Strider in half with one hand.

"Stay out of this," He snarled at her.

"Hey! Watch how you talk to our Deputy pig breath!" Jag started forward and Strider turned to stop him.

"Jag calm down, please, I don't want him to eat you." Strider held out her hands hopelessly and after a moment of consideration, Jag's shoulders fell slightly.

"Alright, fine." The dark haired Shadows looked away and Strider breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks Jag," she said, patting him gently on the shoulder.

"Looks like the Shadows aren't any better than their little girl here! Better not start a fight with them, she'll throw muffins at you!" Roland's yell rang out and Cedric stopped dead in his tracks.

Strider, who was still speaking to Jag, felt a stab of vicious rancor rise up inside of her like a flame.

"Wait just a damn second!" She said as she spun around to face Roland. She took several steps towards him and looked at him with an incriminating glare. Her eyes blazed with a dark anger.

"Look at you, you claim to be some kind of warrior, prancing around in the dark and stabbing people in the back! I don't think you could lift a sword, let alone swing it!"

"Well I wouldn't have to lift it very far to shove it up your-!" Strider's retort was cut short, someone had clamped a hand over her mouth, silencing her abruptly. Cedric had rushed forward, barreling threw the crowd to stop Strider.

"Not another word," He hissed to Strider, his voice was something fiercer than venom.

Instead of abiding, Strider struggled against his grasp defiantly. She slammed her palm up into his chin, knocking his head back. He lost his grip on the girl and she slipped from his grasp with a lithe movement. Cedric felt hands grip his right arm. Already off balance, it only took a sharp tug on his arm to send him stumbling forward, Strider's foot stopped him. He tripped over her foot, and she let him go. Cedric landed face first in the dirt.

Strider's voice was quiet, any tone of anger was forgotten, replaced by an ominous cold demeanor that seemed oddly more frightening. "Were leaving,"

Nobody moved to stop the Shadows as they slipped silently from the garrison and into the forest. Roland helped Cedric to his feet, and the Battlemaster rubbed his chin awkwardly. He thought for a moment he may have underestimated the girl, then he decided he was wrong. _She's just a girl lost in a man's world, nothing else. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok, so this is Chapter 10! A milestone in the story line and plot! Enjoy! Please Review! I like advice on my writing, it's greatly appreciated!**

* * *

The morning dawned bright and humid. Dew drops soaked the leafy fronds of the underbrush and grass, trees branches were drenched with water. The heat of the sun was veiled by the wind, and the fresh air felt good as Strider made her way to the small cabin at the far side of the Shadows encampment. The small dowdy cabin felt like a long lost home Strider had left behind. The door creaked softly behind her and she closed it as quietly as possible. The squeak seemed loud enough for the world to hear.

"I'm awake you know." Strider's shoulders sagged as she heard Fell's voice. She had half hoped he'd be asleep, and she wouldn't have to face him and the lecture she knew was coming. Strider had already heard how wrong her actions had been at the garrison from Kerjack, and she didn't want to hear it again from Fell. Wounded or not, he would talk until Strider's mind was numb with boredom. Putting aside for the moment all her hate for lectures, she moved threw the cabin, receiving a grunt of a greeting from the ever still form beneath the fireplace.

"Morning Ghost," She whispered. The grey furred hound kicked a hind leg in acknowledgement. Strider smiled, some things would never change. Stepping roughly, Strider came to stand in the open doorway to Fell's room, the only other room in the cabin. Her boots made muted sounds against the floor boards, and she leaned on the door frame in typical Shadow uniform.

The room was small, with a clear window and heavy weather shudders that were rarely of use in the thickly forested encampment. There was a neat and tidy night stand next to a wooden bed frame and a soft cotton stuffed mattress. A light wood desk and a oak chair stood in the far corner of the room. Morning sunlight streamed threw the open window. Across one wall was a rack, covered in maps and scrolls of all sorts.

Fell was settled comfortably on the bed. He looked slightly paler than Strider had last remembered, but his eyes were as bright and as keen as they ever had been. He was laying on top of the covers, wearing a pair of clean trousers and bandages from the waist up. Strider stood in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe.

"You wanted to see me?" She prompted. Fell's expression was one of amusement.

"I do?" The amusement turned to puzzlement and Strider managed a weak grin. Guilt and grief crept up inside her.

"From what Jag told me, that seems to be the case." Strider's tone was dull and rueful. Fell let out a sigh.

"No morning greetings, no humor, not even sarcasm. You must've really messed up."

Strider shrugged. "I wouldn't say 'messed up', I think saying that I 'stepped out of line' would be more correct."

Fell nodded, he seemed to still be amused by Strider's open reluctance. "You could start with telling me what happened. I heard that you fought with The Battlemaster of Meric."

It was Strider's turn to sigh, she looked away. She didn't answer.

"One of his men insulted the Shadows, and you hit him?" Fell guessed. Strider shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. Fell was suddenly reminded of an animal pacing in a cage.

"One of his men made an offensive comment, and he stopped me from replying. _Then_ I hit him."

Fell rolled his eyes, his amusement broke free at that moment. "You couldn't have done him and yourself a favor and remained quiet, and civilized?"

"Since when was I ever civilized?" Strider asked, cocking an eyebrow at Fell.

"You've got a point there," Fell admitted, he sat up and winced. "I could use some help," He said as he swung his legs over the bed, Strider gripped his hand and pulled him to his feet. He swayed momentarily, leaning on Strider to find his balance before he continued. He smiled, and the gesture sent a spark of warmth threw Strider.

"Just between you and me, I would have hit him if you hadn't."

Strider looked up at Fell inquiringly, he was smiling deviously.

Fell grinned wider as he elaborated, he moved to the desk, and found a clean shirt in one of the compact little drawers. "Nobody silences my Deputy except me." Behind Fell, Strider blushed. The leader of the Shadows pulled a clean white tunic on with a grunt of discomfort, Strider helped him get the garment over his head. He led the way out the small bedroom into the combined kitchen area, moving with an awkward uneven gait, he managed to put a kettle of water to boil for coffee.

While they waited for the water to boil Strider and Fell settled around the small table. Fell struggled to find a comfortable position that didn't send pain searing threw his side. He yawned, then he turned onto more serious matters to discuss.

"I guess this means were done with the garrison, and the Ranger's and Knights."

Strider shrugged, "We might be done with all of Araluen, for awhile at least."

Fell nodded. "They might be smart to throw us out of their forest anytime."

"That's alright, if they throw us out of Araluen, we could throw the Ranger's into the river."

Fell grinned, "As long as I get to help."

* * *

Rowan collapsed happily onto the soft sheets. Clean linen made contact with his skin, and he wished he could lay on the bed and sleep forever. Soon after dawn, the Knights who had stayed at the Faladore Inn had come to relieve Cedric's own party from guard duty. After a long explanation of the previous night and a short ride they were finally back at the village. The warm clean beds of the Inn had greeted the exhausted Knights without protest.

Downstairs Rowan could hear the muffled voices of his brother and the Ranger's, he struggled to make out the words, and with a sigh of defeat he closed his eyes and let the warm embrace of sleep take him, still clothed in boots and all.

* * *

"We need to get a message to Baron Arald, he needs to know of this," Halt said quietly. Cedric, Gilan, and Halt were sitting around a small wooden table in the Inn discussing matters of their somewhat horrifying discoveries.

"The King should know as well," Gilan added.

Cedric shook his head in disbelief. "You don't really believe the Shadows do you? They're closer to enemies than this so called 'Cult of Day'. If anything, we should be telling the Baron and the King to drive them out of Araluen instead of worrying about some war that might never happen."

"Cedric, I don't think we should let them slip threw our fingers, but we can't ignore this, they wouldn't have helped us if their wasn't some truth to what they've claimed."

Cedric didn't look convinced, "I still don't trust them, they're a little too feral for my liking."

Gilan shrugged, "I guess you can't argue with that, they don't really seem to be all that civilized, even as a group."

"Either way," Halt continued softly, "The Baron needs to know that the Kingdom of Araluen may be facing an attack. We still have the captured Cult members to deal with, they might be able to tell us a little more about themselves, and the Shadows."

At Halt's last statement they seemed to reach an agreement. The prisoners had been left at the garrison, where they could cause little trouble. Moving them back to the village seemed useless, there was hardly anywhere adequate to keep them. Letting them go was simply out the of the question.

* * *

Fell was confined to the cabin for the day, and he took the time to catch up on lost sleep and read threw important maps and documents. Strider had spent most of the morning and a decent part of the afternoon scouting and filling in for sentry duty with Glade. Once the sun had reached it's peak of the day Strider led Glade back to the encampment for lunch.

The cabin was quiet, but the dog rose to greet them, Strider ruffled Ghost's ears and sent Glade to check on Fell. He was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, Fell you ok?" Glade asked, his leader turned to look at him.

"Yes, bored, but otherwise alright. What brings you by?"

Glade grinned, "My mentor, and your babysitter."

Fell grinned crookedly back at him. "What's for lunch?"

"What ever Strider decides to burn."

"Hey! I heard that!" Strider called from the kitchen, Fell's grin widened. He sat up and Glade helped him limp to the kitchen table. Glade offered to cook, and Strider agreed, he began chopping vegetables while Strider rummaged around the homely cabin looking for a first aid kit. Once she found one she joined Fell at the table. He was trying unsuccessfully to pull his shirt over his head, he looked at Strider helplessly and stuck his arms into the air. Strider grinned and pulled his shirt over his head for him, placing the light tunic on the table. His chest was a light tan, like the rest of him, his muscles were only vaguely defined against his skin. Bandages wound themselves tightly around Fell's midsection from the waist up. Strider unwrapped the bandages around Fell while he tried to stay perfectly unmoving, then she began to critically examine the wound. Fell winced and let out a deep breath, Strider took notice of the still ripe pain in Fell's side and gingerly examined the wound. She felt delicately along the edges of the wound for any inflammation and checked the stitches holding the gash closed. Fell flinched as her fingers brushed deftly against his skin. Strider met his eyes and swore that he was looking straight threw her. She drew her hand back quickly, but Fell stopped her, catching her hand in his own and instantly regretting the shot of pain the sudden movement sent threw his side.

"It's ok, you just caught me off guard," He told her, he let go of her hand and she turned to the medical kit to gather a healing salve, hiding the flush of embarrassment that clouded her face. She carefully applied a healing salve to the wound to stop infection from taking root and wrapped Fell in bandages once more.

"I think your going to make it," Strider told her leader as she stood to put the medical kit away, Fell reached for his clean tunic and contemplated the best way to put it on with the less difficulty. Strider came up behind him, he looked up smiled and handed her the tunic before sticking his arms straight into the air once more.

"If you would so kindly," He prompted, and Strider grinned as she pulled the shirt down over Fell's head. He slipped his arms threw and pulled the shirt down around him.

Strider caught the pungent scent of beef stew and she gravitated to the kitchen to help Glade carry the dishes to the table. They ate in a companionable silence, occasionally speaking of the days news and anything that was of importance.

"What about the horses?" Fell asked to no one in particular.

"What horses?" Strider and Glade looked utterly lost.

"The Ranger's, they're still here aren't they?"

Strider nodded and leaned back in her chair, she tapped her chin, thinking. "Yeah, their still here, what do you think we should do with them?"

Fell shrugged, "They'd catch a hefty profit if we sold them, but I think it'd be better if they were returned, maybe as a truce negotiation."

"That makes sense, I guess we'll take them back today," Strider sighed, she didn't really want to do anything other than sleep. She felt frail and withered, the battle at the garrison had drained her, and she felt as if she could sleep for a week. She mentally cursed her responsibility's, and reluctantly rose to her feet. Her feet roared their protest, and she felt oddly weary.

"I've got to get going then, but Kerjack will be by to check on you both later, so don't go anywhere." Strider smiled deviously and Fell cocked an eyebrow.

"Both of us?" Fell and Glade spoke unison.

Strider nodded, "You two can keep each other company, have fun." She slipped out the cabin door and left Glade and Fell to themselves. Fell laced his hands behind his head and let out a sigh and he looked at Glade.

"Want to play cards?"

* * *

Strider tightened the girth strap on the bay Ranger horse and checked that the reins were in their place. She had considered walking the horses back to the garrison but decided that riding would be a lot faster than leading them behind her. She chose a mount and swung up into the saddle. The bay held steady as she gripped the reins, she nudged it's side gently, and for a moment nothing happened. Then, without much warning the horse shook gently and then bucked wildly. Strider sailed threw the air, she landed on her back with a solid thud in front of the horse. The shaggy mount was looking at her with an accusing stare. Strider could hear muffled laughter and a deep chuckle as Kerjack pulled her to her feet. She rubbed the stinging pain from her shoulders. Around the clearing she could hear laughter, and she felt for a moment like she could be everybody's fool all at once.

"Looks like I'm walking," She said, feeling her ears burn hot with embarrassment.

* * *

Walking wasn't half as bad as Strider had expected it to be, and the horses trailed after her willingly, their hooves clopping dryly against the Earth. Strider had scaled a tree stiffly, and was shading her eyes to peer over the wall of the garrison, like she'd expected there was a change of watch, and the Ranger's were no where to be seen. She didn't recognize any one else, which was no surprise, and she cursed under her breath as she realized she'd have to walk all the way to the Faladore village and back to return the horses. Strider climbed down the tree lithely and untied the horses reins from a low hanging branch and began the painstakingly slow trek to the Faladore village.

By the time she had made it to the edge of the forest the sun was dropping behind the trees, she spotted a shape moving threw the toppled masonry near the village. She whistled sharply and he turned to look at her. The cowl of her cloak rested on her shoulders, and her face mask was a scruff at her neck.

"Hey! Tell the Ranger's I've got their horses!" Strider's voice rang clearly across the void between herself and the village.

The boy looked startled, but he raced off towards the Inn and left Strider to wait alone by the edge of the forest.

* * *

Rowan broke into a slow jog as he made his way to the Inn, he'd recognized the ghostly figure in the dying sunlight, and now his mind was racing. He hadn't expected to see a Shadow again, let alone have one come looking for the Ranger's. After several hours of sleep and a quick meal Rowan had been assigned to watch duty. He cursed himself, why did trouble always seem to find him? He opened the door to Inn, panting slightly, he blinked several times until his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and he spotted the Ranger's and his brother sitting at a table. Rowan lost his nerve, and he walked slowly to the table. He felt oddly exposed around the Ranger's, and a fear crept up inside him. The three men turned to look at him expectantly as he stepped up to the table.

"Their's someone waiting for you," He told the Ranger's. Halt looked at him with a dark stare and Rowan wished he could close his eyes and run away. Instead he continued to speak.

"It's that girl, with your horses. She's waiting for you." Understanding dawned in the Ranger's eyes and he stood, Gilan following his sudden movement. He nodded to Rowan who stepped aside to let them threw. Cedric was several steps behind them, and Rowan decided to trail after them, he needed to get back to his post sooner or later.

* * *

Strider was leaning against a tree, staring into the sky, it was streaked with light and dark orange, scarlet and red, and a thick band of midnight sky. She was entranced in the beauty of it all, and she didn't hear the Ranger's stealthy approach.

"I didn't think you'd bring them back to be honest."

The girl leaped back, startled. She relaxed a little as she recognized Halt. He was gentle rubbing Abelard's muzzle. Gilan was comforting his own mount.

"That makes two of us." Strider retorted, her still holding how startled she'd been. She took note that both Ranger's were carrying their weapons, and she smiled on the inside, they were wary of just about everything it seemed, but she couldn't blame them.

"You walked them here?" Gilan asked and Strider rubbed her sore shoulder remembering her failed attempt at mounting, she had always felt she was a decent rider, she could at least stay in the saddle, most of the time.

"I had to,"

A grin showed on the corner of Gilan's lips and Strider felt hot with embarrassment once more.

"If that's all, I've got to get going," Strider turned to leave but Halt stopped her.

"How's Fell?" He asked, his voice never wavering from grim.

"He's fine, cranky, but he'll live." Strider tossed the words back over her shoulder and kept walking, feeling slightly stung, the Ranger's had known their horses would refuse to let her mount properly.

Abelard tossed his head and let out a neigh suddenly, Blaze was doing the same. The Ranger's exchanged looks that Strider didn't see as she continued to walk. Her boot was only inches away from the ground when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Halt took a step forward but was too late.

"Strider!"

The man lunged from the undergrowth, he slammed into Strider's exposed side, the two collided into the ground, Strider felt her head spin as her lungs retched the air from her chest. She let out a gasp of pain, her attacker was at least double her size, and her had pinned her to the ground, he pulled a knife, and Strider saw an arrow appear in his shoulder and he screamed. Strider took the moment of opportunity, she drew her knee up into the man's gut and scrambled out from underneath him. He writhed in pain on the ground as Strider drew herself to her feet belatedly. She'd been caught completely off guard, and suddenly she felt ignorance, but it was too quickly being drowned out by fear.

The attack had only begun, and someone grabbed Strider from behind. She struggled against their grasp and groped for a knife on her belt. A blade prickled her neck and she made a snap decision. Gilan saw the fear in her eyes, he pulled his sword free of it's scabbard at his waist and moved forward. Strider's elbow made solid contact with the man who held her, the knife at her neck dropped to her shoulder and she ducked out of his grasp, expecting the murderous pain of a dagger in her back at any second, it never came.

Gilan's sword swept past Strider as he stepped around her, with a flick of the glimmering blade the Ranger sent the dagger sailing from the mans hand. Gilan rushed the man and rammed the hilt of his sword into the side of the mans hand, he dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

Strider stood facing the first attack as he rose to his feet, she pulled a knife free from her belt as he stepped forward, his eyes showing malicious hate. Strider took a step back, she felt fear rising up in her, blood pounded in her ears and she swore the Ranger's must've heard her hearts' rapid beating in her chest. Before the assassin could take her life, someone took his.

Another arrow appeared in his back, he staggered forward, his eyes showing astonishment as he collapsed to the ground, dead.

"Are you alright?" Halt asked gently, Strider nodded, trying to keep her breath from coming in ragged gasps.

"Yeah, thanks…"

Gilan had dropped to one knee next to the unconscious man. They wore matching jerkins and dark breeches. They had several knives on their person and Gilan didn't spend much time locating all of them. He turned to look at Strider.

"Their assassins," He said, but Strider already knew this, and she felt anguish rearing up inside her, the lies, the secrets, the empty promises all came flooding back to her.

"They were targeting you, do you know anyone who would hire them to kill you?" Halt's voice seemed far away and Strider thought she might faint, it would definitely be better than staying conscious she thought. Gilan carefully examined each assassin in turn as Strider stood staring blankly at the ground, from the looks of their weapons and gear they weren't bandits, they were trained killers, and they'd made their target clear. He turned to Strider, awaiting her answer to Halt's question.

The girl sank to the ground, leaning against a tree, she twined her fingers in her short hair. She looked up, and the tormented gleam in her eyes as she spoke was almost tangible. Her words were short, and they sparked questions that Ranger's were wary to ask.

"My brother."


	11. Chapter 11

**Here it is Chapter 11! A lot of activity in this chapter, I must say it is not my best of Chapters but it's definitely got something the others don't.**

**Your supposed to learn from your mistakes, but how can ya do that if you don't know them? Please read and review! I want to make this as good as possible and I need to know what I might be doing wrong! Any good or negative comment is valued! (Except flame...)**

* * *

For a moment, Gilan thought that Strider might be out of her mind. He kept the opinion to himself and instead knelt by her side, she had her head in her hands and Gilan squeezed her shoulder tenderly. She wasn't injured, other than a few sore ribs and being winded, she was physically unharmed. When she pulled her hands away her eyes were clouded with trouble and grief, she leaned her head back against the tree.

Gilan spoke softly, "Why is your brother trying to have you killed?"

"He's part of the Cult, I'm a Shadow, that alone is enough to want someone dead. Don't think I'm in league with him, or the assassins." She gestured to the assassins.

"Do the rest of the Shadows know?" Halt watched Strider carefully.

"They know, and most of them see me as an enemy because of it."

"But they trust you," Halt said, and Strider shrugged.

"They do, but only because of Fell. Fell trusts me, and the Shadows trust Fell's own judgment, the majority of them have come to overlook who my brother is. They think I've proved my worth and loyalty. For other's it simply isn't enough." Strider's words held a note of finality.

Strider and Gilan stood in unison and Strider nudged the unconscious assassin with her boot, disregarding the dead assassin. Her eyes had hardened slightly, and the momentary breakdown was concealed, shoved into a deep, dark corner of Strider's mind.

"Do with him what you want, I've got to get back to camp." Her hazel eyes smoldered with an emotion Gilan couldn't identify.

"By yourself?" He questioned and Strider nodded.

"I'll be fine, if they're more assassins I can outrun them." _I hope_, she pushed the thought away and smiled in farewell. Strider's words left no room for negotiation, and Gilan nor Halt objected. She pulled the cowl of her cloak up, tugged the mask into place and slipped into the shadows, this time being sure to stay out of sight as much as possible.

Halt and Gilan watched her go, their eyes carefully searching the Shadows for any more attackers. Once she was gone from sight Halt and Gilan made their way back to camp, the injured assassin slung unceremoniously over the back of Blaze.

* * *

Strider arrived back at the encampment well after dark, the camp was relatively quiet, the fires had been doused, sentries had been sent out for the night, the rest of the Shadows were tucked away into their tents. The only light came from the moon over head, and a yellow glow in a window of the small cabin. Strider passed her own tent and went to the cabin, she opened the door and it creaked softly. Fell looked up from the maps and charts laid out in front of him at the oak table.

"Hey, your back." Fell looked surprised and Strider closed the door behind her. The dog leaped to his feet and trotted to her, she scratched his ears and moved towards Fell.

"Yeah, it was a long walk, I didn't think you'd be up so late."

"Something happened, a messenger of the Cult was caught, with this," Fell pushed a scroll towards Strider, she examined it carefully, settling into a chair next to Fell. She found herself staring at detailed plans of an attack on the Faladore Village. She gave vent to a sigh.

"The village won't stand a chance, when is this supposed to happen?"

Fell looked at his Deputy, his voice was soft. "Three days."

"From now?"

Fell nodded. "We've got to do something about this, we can't let the Cult take the village."

"How in the world are we supposed to do that Fell? This says there will be at least forty of the Cult, twenty mounted, twenty on foot. We can't fight against those odds, not when our forces are stretched so thin." Strider was outraged, for more than one reason.

"I know, but the Meric Knights are still close by, with their help we could make a stand. We wouldn't have to win, we'd just have to delay the Cult for a little while." Fell noticed the distracted look on his Deputy's face, "Are you alright?"

Strider nodded, "Yeah," she made the mistake of answering hesitantly, and Fell looked at her critically.

"Something's wrong, I can see it in your eyes, Jane." Strider looked up as he called her by her real name. Only he and Kerjack knew her birth name out of all the Shadows, but they rarely ever called her by it. It melted her, to hear someone call her Jane, she gave in. Strider suddenly felt like a young child again, she wanted the walls of her responsibility's to stop toppling down and crushing her beneath her mistakes. The sound of her name was something like music to her ears, and she felt subdued, she sighed and told Fell about the assassins. He rose from his chair and moved closer to Strider, ignoring the sting in his side, she felt his hand wrap around hers. Fell guided Strider to her feet.

"I'm scared Fell," Her voice cracked, and Fell pulled her to him. His arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. Strider rested her head against Fell's shoulder, the pungent scent of fresh clover seemed to radiate from him, and it comforted Strider. Fell was warm, and Strider wasn't sure she wanted to let go of him. His voice was calm and soothing, she could feel it rumble in his chest as he spoke quietly to her.

"I not going to let him hurt you Jane, I promise."

* * *

Strider slept threw the afternoon the next day, no one woke her and once she realized how late it was she fumbled around blindly in her tent, tugged on breeches and a fresh tunic and stumbled out of the tent. She was hopping on one foot and tugging a boot on the other as she made her way to the small commandment cabin. Fell and Marek were sitting at the table in the cabin, leaning over maps and scrolls. The table was covered in them, and Strider felt the beginning of a head ache at the thought of studying them.

"Morning sleepy head." Fell was smiling at her, but she wasn't sharing in his obvious cheer at her late rising. The previous night seemed little more than a dream to Fell, and he took notice of Strider's resumed strength, she didn't look very fearful to him anymore.

"It's the Afternoon, I overslept. I thought someone was going to wake me."

Fell nodded, "I told them not to, you needed the rest."

Strider opened her mouth to object when Fell cut her off. "You'll need all the rest you can get, you and Marek are going to the village to show this to the Knights." Fell was holding the Cult's captured battle plans against the village and Strider felt her stomach sink as she remembered the night before. It all came back to her, she felt it wrap itself around her like a morning mist. Strider shoved it away as her leader continued.

"I expect you to both to be back by nightfall, without news of a conflict. That means no fighting with the Knights, if they don't agree to an alliance, we'll be forced to fight a battle we can't possibly win. We can't afford to ignore this battle, there's too much at risk." Fell's voice trailed off into silence, he could see from the stern looks on his comrades faces that the message was clear. He smiled encouragingly and sent them away, calling a farewell after them.

"Good luck."

* * *

Gilan was on watch when Marek and Strider stepped forth from the tree line. The Ranger had already spotted them moving threw the trees, now he could see the faces of the two Shadows, he stood and waved to them from the block of masonry he had been crouched beside.

Marek waved back and they approached warily. They had their cloaks on their shoulders and their masks around their necks. Gilan watched them carefully, he wondered for a moment what their intentions might be, he couldn't think of a reason for them to show up at the Faladore village. The Ranger hoped they wouldn't make it a habit in the future. Cedric and The Ranger's had agreed to keep the Shadows presence in the forest a secret from the villagers, they'd decided it would be best for the existence of the Shadows to be known to as few people as possible.

"Hey Gillie, how you been?" Marek was grinning broadly, Gilan simply grimaced at his nickname.

"Fine, what brings you here?" Marek caught the disinterested tone in Gilan's voice and he smiled wider.

"So it's going to be like that eh? All business and no play? Maybe I'm on the wrong side of this war." Marek grumbled slightly, but his eyes danced with laughter.

"In a second your going to be on the wrong side of my foot," Strider shot Marek a warning glance as she spoke, he shrugged it off, knowing such a threat even when carried out would pose little threat to himself.

"We came to bring you something," Strider pulled a rolled up piece of parchment, the edges were roughly cut and the paper was far from white. She passed it to Gilan, the Ranger unrolled the scroll and stood silent for a moment as his keen eyes skimmed the lines written in black ink.

Gilan sighed once he was finished, he looked up at the Shadows his eyes were troubled. "We should talk inside, Halt and Cedric need to see this."

The Shadows followed Gilan, he led them into the Faladore Inn. The Inn was bereft of activity. The Inn keeper stood wiping a clean cloth against imaginary dust on the spotless countertops, the few table scattered through out the small space were cleared and spruce looking. Gilan directed them to any empty table and instructed them to wait while he fetched Halt and Cedric. The two Shadows shuffled nervously to the table, they settled in the oak wood chairs wordlessly. Marek could feel the gaze of the Inn keeper burning into him.

"I don't like this," He whispered to Strider, all sense of his earlier humor was just a memory.

They were sitting near the fireplace, and they had a good view of the stair case as Gilan returned with Halt and Cedric trailing after him. Strider leaned closer to Marek as she whispered to him.

"I don't like it either, there's nowhere to run, but I don't think we have a choice." Marek bit back a reply as the Ranger's and Cedric settled themselves around the table. It was a tight, uncomfortable squeeze, and Strider and Marek stayed to one side of the table, closest to the door, Cedric noted. Wary glares and gazes were exchanged before Cedric broke the tension.

"Something you wanted to show us?" Cedric prompted.

"We captured these plans from a messenger working with the Cult, we thought it would only be fair if you were warned." Strider laid the scroll on the table, Cedric and Halt each examined the document critically.

"When is this supposed to happen?" Strider felt a hint of déjà vu, she had asked the same thing, and she felt it harder to speak the truth than hear it.

"Two days from now."

Cedric looked furious. "If that's all you came to tell us you can go."

Marek shook his head. "The Cult is our enemy, as well as yours now, they want this village and they're going to fight for it. We know them inside and out, but we still can't take them on against these odds."

"What are you suggesting?" Halt prodded.

Strider's hazel eyes flared in the dim light, "An alliance."

Cedric looked aghast, "An alliance? With you, a bunch of thieving bandits not fit to wield daggers?"

Marek looked at Strider with a pained expression. "I don't think you hit him hard enough,"

"You could always give it a try Marek," Strider's comment led the loud cracking of Marek's knuckles in his massive hands. The sound was unusually loud, and Strider could imagine a clap of his hands similar to the cracking of thunder.

The stony glares that met the Shadows from across the table dashed Marek's brief excitement, and he let out a gusty sigh. Strider scowled and continued.

"Look, if all your going to do is judge us because of our habits then we'll let you fight this battle one your own. I've never been much of a strategic thinker, but I'm quite certain that forty to fifteen is not plausible."

There was a moment of quiet consulting among the three men across from the Shadows, once they seemed to reach a decision they faced the Shadows.

"Fine, we agree. You ally with us for this battle, but that's all."

Marek was shaking his head before Cedric had even finished in his reluctant tone.

"Oh no, _you_ are allying with _us_, this way we've got the upper ground in case you decide to stick a silvery dagger in our back." Marek was grinning, and the gesture was infuriating to Cedric.

"Your worried about us sticking a dagger in _your_ back?" Cedric was astonished.

Strider nodded, "Just because were thieves doesn't mean were never on the sharp side of the blade." Gilan suddenly felt sympathetic for the Shadows, what Strider said was true. They were losing a battle that could be potentially disastrous for all of Araluen.

"This battle is as vital to you as it is to us. This is how it starts, one village at a time until your surrounded, all that's left to do is surrender." Marek's demeanor had changed, his eyes held a stony sadness, his memories seemed to flare to life in his eyes.

"This isn't a risky alliance for us either you know," Strider said suddenly, seeing the chagrin looks on the faces of the Araluens'. "Were bringing a legend to life by giving up our secrecy."

Halt's eyebrows raised in a question, "Your giving it up?"

Strider shrugged, "It's unavoidable, if we agree to an alliance we'll be sacrificing our existence, or well nonexistence. Besides, Araluen has to know about the Shadows of the South sooner or later."

* * *

They went threw the agreements at a timid pace, they finally came to the end of they're debating with an hour or so of daylight to spare. The Knights would fight under their own leadership, as would the Shadows, the commanders would work together to form a plan against the attack the following day. Once they had settled the basic compliances, the Shadows prepared to leave. Strider stood and Cedric offered his hand, she shook it, and Marek smiled.

"It's always so touching when enemies become allies, don't you agree?" His question was met with cold silence.

"We've got to get back to the encampment, Fell's expecting us." Cedric and the Ranger's nodded their understanding, suddenly the door to the Inn swung back on it's rusty hinges, Collin hobbled in. He had an axe in one hand and wood shavings clung to his jerkin, he had just finished chopping fresh firewood. The instant he saw the Shadows he froze mid stride to stare at them, his eyes widened in fear.

"You're the demons from the forest!" Cedric opened his mouth to object, and without warning Collin swung his frail arms towards Marek and Strider. The sharp edged blade of the rusty axe arced sloppily for Strider, she ducked under the blow and surged forward. Collin was given no time to aim a second blow as the Ranger's, Shadows and Cedric all rushed forward. Marek got to Collin first, almost toppling Strider in the act, he held the man a foot off the floor by the nape of his neck as Gilan pulled the axe from Collin's hand. The little man shrieked his protests and Strider slipped past him to the door.

"I think it's best we be on our way now,"

Cedric nodded his agreement, Marek fumbled uncomfortably and set Collin back on the ground, patting the man's rumpled jerkin before the bulky figure of the Shadow followed Strider ungracefully out of the Inn at a lumbering jog.

Once outside Marek turned to Strider as he fell instep with her, "I think that went rather well.'

Strider let out a snort of contempt, "Oh yes, axes and all."

* * *

Fell listened intently as Marek and Strider relayed the events of the meeting to him and Kerjack. They'd arrived back at as the sun began to set, and they spoke over dinner which Kerjack had happily cooked. Strider yawned tiredly, she hadn't realized how exhausting it was to trek from the Shadows encampment to the Faladore village until that day. She didn't like it, and from Marek's irritable grumbling and complaints, neither did he. Fell dismissed them and Strider walked slowly back to her tent. She had a small tent to herself, she had to duck under the low entrance but she could stand at her full height once inside. The overall size of the tent was caught between pathetic and deplorable, but Strider managed. Her bedroll was spread in one corner, in another were stacked a small pack of extra gear, saddle bags held most of it. Clean clothes held their own place on a tidy stack of books. A lamp hung from the wooden frame of the tent, and Strider felt no need to light it as she dropped her weapons into a pile and kicked her boots off. She tossed her arm guards into a pile of their own, along with her cloak.

The disheveled tent was home to Strider, and she liked it just the way it was. It took her another minute or so to drowsily toss her trousers and tunic into another pile to be dealt with when the sun rose. She slipped under the light covers of her bed roll and let out a sigh. Sleep fell on her like a shadow in the forest, and along with it came nightmares.

_Strider was standing over Fell, he was staring up at her with a look of fear and confusion. She smiled grimly, a malicious glint in her eyes. Strider could feel the heavy hilt of a sword in her hand. The blade glinted silver in the moon light. Fell backed away from his Deputy, horror taking over his features._

_Behind them someone spoke in a dark voice, it seemed to hold the howling of wolves and singing of angels in one torturing, yet melodic tone. "Kill him!"_

_Strider raised her sword, she heard Fell's scream and the laugh that dripped with malicious venom rising in volume behind her._

Strider jolted awake, Fell's scream still echoing in her mind, beads of sweat had formed on her neck, she wiped them away. She groped around in the dark, looking for her clothes. She stumbled blindly from her bed, pulling on clothes and boots in a muted rush. She tightened the arm guards around her wrists and elbows, she clipped the clasp of her cloak together securely. She slipped out of her tent, peering into the night with keen hazel eyes that held her fear.

The camp was silent, and Strider moved with muted footsteps to a large boulder taking up residence not far from her tent. She climbed on top of the boulder, stretched at full height she could reach the top of the rise. The camp was nestled in a shallow dip in the ground, and Strider locked her hands on the solid flat grey rock that hung out over her. She gave a small grunt as she jumped, it took her a moment to leverage her weight just right and pull herself out of the Shadows camp. She rested on the slab of rock for a moment, catching her breath that had left her in the late night climb.

Above her the moon still hung high in the sky, it was late in the night, the stars twinkled against the ebony darkness of the night sky. She sighed and stood, she turned her back on the encampment, pulling her cowl and mask into place, she stalked off into the shadowy forest, neglecting to look back like so many times before.

* * *

He was waiting by the river at the widest part of the banks. The current was smoothest here, and the water bubbled and swished over the rocks with murmurs of hushed sound. His blue grey eyes scanned the forest edge as he looked for her. He could hear no footsteps on the ground, but he could _sense _her, lurking in the forest watching him, stalking him.

"You can come out now." His voice was soft and taciturn with an air of serious about it. It carried to the trees, reluctantly a cloaked figure slipped from the under brush. She came to stand in front of the man as he sat on a smooth boulder rearing up among a small pile of other much smaller rocks. The shadowy figure pushed their cowl back, the mask following soon after.

The man smiled as he met the burning gaze of the girl, his grey eyes held something colder than ice.

"I didn't think you'd show up."

Strider shrugged, "That makes two of us." There was a moment of neutral silence, and Strider's hazel eyes burned into that of the man before her. "What do you want Derek?"

Derek smiled up at her, his eyes remaining harsh. "I want you to surrender Jane."

Strider shook her head, ignoring Derek's retort. "You hired assassins, to kill me. Of all the things you've done, this has got to be the worst."

Derek rose to his feet took a step closer to Strider, he looked down into her eyes, his solemn smile never wavering. "Sister dearest, how misled even you can be. It tickles me, your devious and defiance are tools for me to use. I assure you, they weren't supposed to kill you, I plan to do that myself. They were supposed to test the Rangers, to see if they truly were all they are said to be. Their partners how ever and probably making their way to the Faladore village to kill the Ranger's as we speak."

Strider's eyes widened with understanding, "You set it up," The girl took several steps back from her brother, the malicious glint in his eyes growing as the horror of it all came together in her mind. He'd sent the assassins there for a reason, and their was no doubt in her mind that he had watched them fight and lose bitterly to the Ranger's. She turned to run, but Derek's fierce grip locked around her arm, she turned, and saw the dagger in his hand. Moonlight glinted off the sleek blade.

"We'll have none of that," he hissed, but he didn't anticipate Strider's attack. She slammed the heel on her foot down on her brother's. She grabbed his shoulders, dragging her knee up it into his gut. His grip faltered, and then she was gone, the weak feeling in her legs and the sickness in her stomach falling away behind her as she ran into the forest. She tried to swallow the dryness in her throat, but she couldn't, there was no swallowing her fear.

* * *

Blaze's hooves clattered against hard the flagstones of the courtyard as he stormed into the clearing, Gilan tugged the reins slightly and the horses skidded to a stop at the base of the Baron's tower. He whispered his thanks to his horse, patting the bay's neck with gratitude, the sentries on guard moved to stand aside as the Ranger raced up the stone steps. It was clear something was urgent.

Gilan stepped into the Barons office quietly, behind him the secretary closed the door. The Baron looked up, his eye brows came together in a gesture of confusion.

"Gilan, what are you doing here? I thought you would still be in the Faladore woods,"

Gilan was shaking his head, "I apologize my lord, but something has happened and you were to be notified immediately."

"Where's Halt? And Cedric?"

Gilan brushed the questions aside, "They're fine, but they won't be if we don't act quickly, my lord." Everything about the village tumbled out of Gilan like water from a waterfall, when he was finished Baron Arald's face was white and drawn, concern clouded his auburn eyes. He sent Gilan to sleep, and once the Ranger had tended to Blaze he did as he was told, reviewing the events of the day in his mind as he lay on a soft bed and clean sheets.

Once Strider and Marek had left Halt sent Gilan back to Redmont, who reluctantly left. He knew if he failed that Halt, Cedric and the Shadows would fall prey to the force of Cult that would arrive in less than two days. He'd sent Blaze into a rapid gallop, keeping the pace threw out the night and arriving at Redmont with both rider and horse exhausted. Now that the message was delivered, the fate of the Faladore village and the Shadows rested purely on the shoulders of Baron Arald. Gilan sighed, he closed his eyes and felt sleep drag him down.

* * *

Strider had made it to the garrison in record time, her lungs were stinging with pain and she stopped at the heavy wooden gate of the small garrison, hearing the shouts of the men on the ramparts, she looked up. She had her hands on her knees, trying desperately to catch her breath as she gazed up. One man in particular was looking down at her, waving a torch in one hand and a naked sword in the other. The change of watch had switched earlier that morning, and Roland me the eyes of Strider with a criticizing glare.

"Where are the Ranger's?!" She yelled, her voice coming out weaker than she wanted it to.

"That's none of your business!"

"Tell me, dammit! They're going to be killed!" She was gasping for air and it seemed to be impossible to drag air enough into her lungs.

Roland didn't look very convinced, but his orders from Cedric had been very clear, the Shadows were their temporary allies, and he supposed that too included even the most disrespectful of them. Finally Roland looked back at someone that Strider could not see, "Open the doors."

* * *

The wind rippled threw Strider's cloak, despite her recent misfortune with mounting horses, the black and white gelding hadn't thrown her from it's back before she kicked him into a flying gallop. She left Roland with more questions than answers, along with a solemn promise to bring the horse back. She clung to the horse now, she hadn't had the time to saddle the gelding, and her hands clutched at the horses neck and mane, her boots and knees were braced and against the animals sides and haunches. Holding on was all Strider could focus on. They burst free of the trees, the village was a dark mass of wooden structures, the roofs washed in silver moonlight.

No sentry rose to stop her as the bronco was jerked to stop in front of the Inn, Strider slipped from the tall animals back, not having time to tie the agitated steed up, she let him wander and ran to the Inn. The door was ajar, and the raging pace Strider had taken on threw out her journey to the Inn was slowed drastically. Moonlight pooled on the wooden floor from a window. The rest of the Inn was shrouded in darkness. She carefully picked her way through the chairs and tables of the Inn, she didn't know what to expect, the door being wide open left her some clue. The assassins were in the Inn, but where? Or maybe they'd already done their deed and she would find the Ranger's dead upstairs, maybe they'd already made their escape. She cursed not knowing where the assassins were, she would have to check the Inn's dining room for them before she moved on, she could be stumbling threw the dark while Halt and Gilan were killed in their sleep. An aura of baleful silence hung over the Inn as Strider slunk through the darkness.

Strider took another step forward, gliding threw the Inn with practiced skill, she moved adjacent to the wall. Something had moved, she was sure of it. Strider's dagger slid from it's scabbard at her right thigh with a soft whisper. She held the blade in the moonlight, the fierce white light glimmered off the blade and was reflected across the room. She saw nothing, but heard everything, a boot touched the rough wood of the Inn's worn floor, she would recognize the sound anywhere. Caution was thrown to the wind as Strider bolted for the stairs, she stumbled over a chair, the railing of the stairs caught in below the rib cage once as she struggled to find her footing.

She never made it up the stairs, a hand clutched her collar from above after the first five or six steps, and then somebody was throwing her over the stairs wooden balustrade. Her hands groped at nothingness as she tried desperately to stop the feeling of falling. She slammed into something rough and hard with a sickening thud, a table top she guessed as the falling stopped for a moment then began again as she rolled another foot or so. She landed on a chair and let out a grunt of pain. She remained still for a moment on the floor of the Inn and then carefully began to move her limbs, everything felt sore, her shoulder stung and there was a distinct ache in her left side. She looked up in the direction of where she thought she'd been thrown from, she saw the paralyzing gaze of someone as they stepped down from the stairs and glided towards her.

* * *

Halt bolted upright in bed, the covers fell off him as he stood, his eagle like gaze adjusted to the darkness with little difficulty, in the small room he slept in, nothing was out of place. His gear was stacked neatly beside him, along with his clothes, his saddle bags were by the door. Everything was right where he had left it. He'd heard something he was sure of it, heavy footsteps and a massive thud had woken him. Moving quietly he pulled on his trousers, gathered his saxe knife and dagger and slipped silently from the room.

The hall of the Inn was clear and Halt's bare feet felt along the floorboards easily. Then he froze as he heard something ahead of him. He caught the indistinct outline of a cloak and lunged forward, he dropped his shoulder and rammed into the figure. He heard a deflating gasp, and realized he'd hit his attacker in the chest. He felt the sharp edge of a blade cut across his right arm in an attempt at a counter attack. He say the green eyes of his attacker and slammed his right fist below the menacing gaze. The figure dropped in Halt's arms. He stepped back and let the man fall to the floor, blood spilling from his nose.

Down stairs he heard the sound of chairs and tables being disturbed. Halt moved forward swiftly, in his stealthy approach to the stair case he heard move sounds of disaster downstairs. His pace quickened until he was half sprinting down the stairs. What he saw both shocked and confused the Ranger.

Another cloaked figure stood, his hand was held out in front of him, holding someone up against the wall farthest from Halt. He saw the hazel eyes swivel to meet his for a moment and instantly knew who it was the assassin held captive. A thin line of blood ran from Strider's mouth. The assassins' hand tightened around the girls neck and she gasped. He raised his knife.

Halt hurled his dagger at the man, a scream erupted from his throat as the knife bit into his shoulder. He slung Strider aside, the girl slammed into the top of the bar and she fell to the floor on the far side, out of Halt's vision. The assassin's attention was now focused on Halt, the man he'd been sent to kill.

The Ranger's eyes made out the rough outlines of chairs and tables, he moved down the stairs, his attacker rushing forward to meet him. Their blades met with a ringing clash, Halt registered the sound of footsteps behind him and the stinging pain in his shoulder and arm. He felt blood running down his side. Moving suddenly, the Ranger threw a sudden left hook at his opponent, the assassins knife drew closer to him, then jerked back as a fist drilled into him.

Before Halt had made another move he saw a shape swinging onto the top of the bar, he could hear Cedric's booming voice as the Battlemaster raged down the stairs.

"Halt!"

The assassin had retaliated, and he advanced the Ranger once more, but something stopped him. Strider hurled herself from the top of the bar, dagger in hand, crashing into the assassin with a murderous vengeance. Halt immediately took a step back to avoid being toppled by the two as they writhed on the floor. Finally they stopped and they were still, Strider was laying a few feet away from the assassin, Halt almost thought she might be dead until she staggered to her feet. Cedric almost took her for an enemy, the naked sword in his hand stayed raised cautiously. The assassin did not get up.

Strider kicked at him ruefully, "That's what you get dammit." She spoke gruffly and her eyes burned with her obvious displeasure. Then she raised her gaze to meet Halt's grim gaze and Cedric's puzzled one. Blood ran down the length of Strider's right shoulder and arm, all the way down to her hand. Her cloak hung around her loosely and she stood awkwardly, careful not to jostle her left side. The girl raised her hands to stop Halt and Cedric from speaking, her demeanor changed from ill tempered to cautious as she spoke.

"I can explain."


	12. Chapter 12

**_THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS!_**

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**OK, so this is Chapter 12! Not that many left, ENJOY!**

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* * *

"Your damn right you'll explain." Cedric had grumbled as he put his sword down on a table that hadn't been overturned. Halt pointed out that Strider was bleeding but she shrugged, she told them it wasn't her blood, but the assassins. The weary girl had only sore and aching pains to speak of. The Inn Keeper shambled over from his own rooms nestled behind the bar. He was holding a lantern in one hand, he saw the blood on Halt's shoulder, along with the stern look on Cedric's face, he shuffled his feet and went to find a medical kit. Cedric pushed Halt into a chair, and Strider pulled a match from her belt. Each table was topped with a candle, but none were lit, with the match and some difficulty, Strider lit the candle and light spilled over Halt, revealing the worst of his injuries. Their was one short cut across his upper right arm and shoulder. It had bled a considerable amount, and Cedric took note of the paling complexion of the Ranger.

"Now what the hell are you doing here slinking around?" Cedric asked Strider, then he gestured to the motionless assassin, "And why are your friends here trying to kill Halt?"

Strider looked disheveled, and she sighed shortly and replied gruffly, "They're not my friends, nor allies. They are, or were, in league with the Cult. My brother, he, well he sent them here. I thought there were only one of them though." She looked at Cedric inquiringly but it was the Ranger who replied.

Halt winced as Cedric used a piece of spare cloth to press against the Ranger's wound to stop the bleeding. Strider wondered where he got the cloth from, considering that he and Halt were both bare from the waist up and wearing only trousers she classified it as a shear mystery. "There were two, I dealt with one up stairs. They came to kill you?"

Strider shook her head, "No, it's not me they to kill, they came to kill you Halt, you and Gilan. Where is Gilan? He's not… Dead, is he?"

"Gilan is fine, I sent him to Redmont to get help. I don't understand, why do they want to kill Halt?" Cedric's tone was soft.

Strider shrugged, "I didn't exactly get a chance to ask my brother that…"

Halt's eyes widened, "You spoke to him?"

"Spoke, argued, snarled it's all the same right?" She looked at them hopefully, they didn't reply and her shoulders sagged. "I went to speak to him, he had someone bring me a message after the assassins attacked, when I was walking back to the encampment. It said he wanted to speak to me, so I went."

Cedric looked astonished, "Fell let you go and talk to him?"

Strider shrugged, crestfallen, "I wish. He doesn't even know, he thinks I'm safe, tucked away in the encampment. I had to go, I didn't really see it as an option not to, he might be a Cult, but he's my brother after all." Cedric thought for a moment, he understood, he had a brother he'd do just about anything for as well. Then he looked at Strider in puzzlement, "I don't get it, he has assassins try and kill you, then he wants to meet you, and you go. That just doesn't make good sense."

"It doesn't," Strider admitted, "But I had to know why he wanted to see me, for all I knew he wanted me dead. The assassins that attacked the first time were just a test. He wanted to see if you were really Ranger's." Strider looked at Halt, his grave eyes gave nothing away. "Once he was sure, he wanted you out of the picture. I don't think he knows what we know about the attack. However, he does know all about you, Halt. You're a threat to him, and so is Gilan."

Halt nodded, he accepted the fact, "And what about you? Aren't you a threat to him?"

Strider sighed, "Once he told me that his plot to have you killed, he tried to take me captive, or kill me, either way, I ran like hell all the way to the garrison. Then I rode, or well clung to a horse the rest of the way here. I wasn't going to let anyone die because my brothers ambitious."

Cedric looked taken back, "You call it ambition?"

"Ambition or a mental illness, I haven't decided yet." Then Strider let out a gusty sigh, her fingers itched to be doing something and she began to replace to overturned tables and chairs to their rightful positions. The Inn Keeper returned, stepped around her and delivered the medical kit to Cedric, who sent him back to bed, assuring him that he'd deal with the rest.

"There's something I didn't tell you… About my brother. Something no one else knows about my brother right now but me."

Cedric had gotten to work tending to Halt's wound while Strider paced uncertainly around the room, looking uncomfortably nervous and guilty. She felt Halt's eyes watching her.

"What is it?" He asked, urging her on.

Strider stopped pacing and turned to look at him, one hand rubbing her neck awkwardly. "The Shadows think that my brother's a simple foot soldier for the Cult, but he's a tad bit more than that. I guess it's my own fault…"

Cedric had looked up at the girl as well, "What is he then? An advisor? Ambassador? Lieutenant?"

Strider shook her head, "He's the leader… He runs the whole show, he took control of the Cult a while ago after their original leader was kidnapped and killed. He chose to take over to ensure the safety of leadership." Strider's tone was bordering on misery.

Halt frowned, "How does becoming leader protect the position? Who's to say he's not be killed like the leader before him?"

"That's just it, _I_ killed the previous leader. I staked out at the palace of his for a week or so, and when I felt he time was right, I snuck in, killed him, and got out. I think I could do it again too. No one really suspects the young maid as a Shadows. It can be deceiving."

Cedric nodded, "Very deceiving."

"My brother took over leadership of the Cult because he knows that even though I can deceive and lie, plot and scheme," Strider flopped down into a chair, "I can't kill him, I can't even fight him, I just have to sit around and wait for him to slip up. It's the business of pure misery."

Cedric was thinking hard, something Battlemaster typically aren't thought to be very good at unless they were leaning over a map, "And Fell doesn't know this?"

Strider shook her head, "No, he has no idea, he thinks Derek, my brother, is a lowly foot soldier among the Cult who I will never meet in battle. It's just a little more complicated than that."

Cedric finished wrapping bandages around Halt and went on speaking critically to Strider. "Why don't you just tell him that?"

Strider looked at him and raised one eyebrow in question, "If it were that easy I would've told the world by now. It's not like I can waltz right up to Fell and tell him that his Deputy's brother happens to be leading the Cult, and that I can't kill him. That I won't even try. I don't want to let Fell down, and that's exactly what'll happen if I tell him. I might be wrong, but I guess I'll find out when I tell him tomorrow."

Halt rubbed his arm sorely, "Your going to tell him?"

"How else am I going to explain this? He can see straight threw me when I lie, and he's going to want the truth once he hears about this." Strider gestured to the assassins limp body laying across the floor.

Cedric nodded his assent, and Strider rose back to her feet. She righted the rest of the furniture, while Cedric and Halt spoke quietly to one another. Then she helped Cedric and Halt tie the surviving assassin up and settle him into a tight corner by the fireplace. She remembered the gelding she'd left to wander around outside, and went out in search of him. Once she found him she feed and watered him, brushing out his coat and rubbing him down to make up for leaving him without care for so long. He didn't object to the extra care for once and he tossed his mane happily at her efforts.

Halt and Cedric had discovered an unconscious sentry who was supposed to be on duty while Strider was busy working. He had a large bruise on the side of his head and his sword was missing from his belt. Strider planned to leave when she was done bedding the horse down for the night when Cedric offered her a drink of fresh coffee. Naturally, she accepted, and Halt found her asleep in a chair in the Inn not long after that. Cedric couldn't believe how much younger Strider looked when she was sleeping, she looked young and innocent. He had to admit, he could almost believe she was benevolent, and not the errant and defiant fighter he'd become so accustomed to when he looked at her.

Cedric looked at Halt hopelessly, "Are you going to wake her?"

The Ranger shook his grizzled head, "No, are you?"

Cedric smiled in defeat and carried Strider up to an empty room in the Inn. He settled her onto a fresh bed, tugged off her boots, arm guards, weapons and cloak, placing them neatly away in a chair close by. He pulled the covers over her and left her to sleep.

* * *

They arrived long before noon the next day, they waited at the forest edge before Cedric ushered them closer. Fell and Marek made their way down to the village to talk to Cedric at where he stood at the outskirts of the village. Fell had noticed someone standing along side the Battlemaster and he knew by the defiant set of the stance that it was his Deputy.

"Morning Cedric, Strider." He was staring at his Deputy with something close to fury, and Cedric felt tension crackle through the air.

"Glad to see you on your feet," Cedric said as he shook hands with Fell. The leader of the Shadows nodded, contented.

"It's good to be allowed to do something other than sleep, especially with no one to make sure I'm well rested." He shot Strider a glare of pure ice. Marek pulled his dagger and began to cut at the air to his left.

Cedric stared at him critically, "Marek, what are you doing?" He asked, and Marek shot him with a look that made Cedric feel suddenly uneducated.

"Cutting the tension," He retorted innocently, and went back to his hacking at nothing. Fell acknowledged Marek's obvious point and shifted his gaze to his Deputy, "I think I need to speak to my Deputy, alone." Cedric stood with Marek, who had sheathed his dagger as Strider and Fell walked off a ways to talk. They stepped into the shade of some trees and Fell leaned against a tree, his green eyes showing his obvious displeasure.

"You could start at the beginning." He said coldly. Fell kept his guarded gaze parallel with the horizon, he wouldn't even look at Strider.

Strider sighed, "Fell I'm sorry, I didn't tell you I left camp last night,"

Her leader nodded his recognition, "Offense number one, go on." He didn't once meet Strider's gaze.

Strider told Fell the rest of what happened, and he chimed in with his constant remarks about Strider's mistakes. Finally Strider's explanation came to an end.

Fell shook his head, "Anything else?"

Strider nodded, "Fell, when I told you I had a brother who was part of the Cult, I never told you that exactly what role he played for them. He's not a lowly foot soldier. He's… He's their leader."

Strider saw Fell stiffen, and she half expected an outbreak of anger from him, but he stayed calm, and this time he looked straight at Strider. His voice was cold and stern, and Strider felt like a disobedient child.

"Why didn't you tell me this?"

"Fell, I killed their leader before. I'd try to do it again any way I could, but he's my brother, and I can't kill him. He knows it and he holds it against me. If the Shadows knew they'd expect me to use this to my advantage, become his ally and then do away with him. I can't do that, not to my brother, no matter how wrong his actions are."

Fell thought for a moment, "I would never, not for the life of me, send you out to kill your own brother. You should've known that."

"It was never you I was worried about. Face it, the Shadows are desperate. Any victory on our part is a Godsend, having the leader of the Cult's sister as a hostage, or even as a tool to kill him would be a miracle. I'm not a tool Fell, I look at my brother and I see this kid I spent my childhood with. He might be able to look past every one of the memories we shared, but I can't. I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be, no one is asking you to kill your brother, and no one is going to. You're a Shadow, and you belong here as my Deputy, no matter how many secrets you may be hiding." Fell sighed, "Jane, there is some logical reason for you being my second in command. It's not just because of what you've done for the Shadows. I chose you because I know you're not ever going to give up on me. Your strong when I can't be, and I'm strong when you can't be. It's a working partnership."

Strider nodded, "I know," She met Fell's gaze, "I messed up, and I'm sorry."

Fell's eyes softened, "Good, now let's go, they're waiting for us." Fell began to pick his away down the gentle slope back to where Cedric and Marek were waiting. Behind him he heard Strider's instant retort, and he smiled.

"Yes, mother." Strider trudged after her leader, she could _feel_ him smiling.

* * *

"So who won?" Marek asked casually as they trekked to the Inn. Fell shot him a withering look.

"It wasn't a fight, Marek."

Marek shrugged and ignored his leaders comment, "For what it's worth, I put my money on you." Fell rolled his eyes, and Strider fought back a grin.

"I'm sure you did."

Cedric watched the exchange in silence, he found it mildly amusing the way Fell and Marek traded words. Fell's seniority and authority over Marek didn't seem to complicate them being close friends, sharing jokes seemed to be a common occurrence between them.

* * *

Halt was waiting for them at the Inn, already seated at a table surrounded with chairs, maps and charts were scattered before him. Cedric and the Shadows exchanged greetings quietly, doing their best not to disrupt the serene calmness that had settled over the Inn. Like the day before, the Inn was noticeable empty, and the feeling of unease was contagious. Once everyone had settled around the table with a tight uncomfortable squeeze, they began to discuss the matters of the attack.

The basic idea was to trap the force of the Cult between the Shadows and the Araluens. The Shadows would flank the Cult from the forest, and the Araluens would attack head on from the village. Fell agreed to the plan, liking the simple lay out of it all. The attack, set for the late afternoon was still hours away, and all the major preparations for the battle had been made. The miserable game of waiting began.

* * *

Fell and Marek sparred while Strider sharpened her weapons. The leader of the Shadows' movements were stiff and hampered, and he favored his left side as he tussled with Marek. Halt was busy practicing his archery, he was finding it difficult to fire arrows from a full draw with his recent injury, and he spent time finding the best way to cope. Cedric spent his morning training with his younger brother, Rowan. They practiced with wooden drill swords until sweat was pouring down both of their faces. The sparring match between Marek and Fell ended with Marek victorious. The instance Fell had dropped his guard Marek had toppled him over, using his bulky weight and figure to his advantage. Fell was forced to give up, and he smiled ruefully as Marek pulled him to his feet, grinning.

"I think I'm getting better at this." He told Fell, who shot him a sardonic look.

"I hadn't noticed," Marek clapped him on the back. Even though Fell was at an average height for his age, Marek still towered over him, both in height and girth. The two settled on the verandah of the Inn, where Strider was finishing sharpening her weapons. She looked up at the clear blue sky and murmured softly.

"I think it's going to rain today."

Cedric and Rowan had joined them on the verandah, helping themselves to a wine skin filled with cool water.

"There's not a cloud in the sky." He said, and Strider nodded.

"I can see that, but look at the birds," Cedric followed Strider's gaze to a flock of birds fleeing from the trees. They looked to be in a hurry, and Strider continued softly with her explanation, "Before storms birds fly off to safety."

Suddenly the sound of hooves pounding against the Earth brought both Shadows and Cedric to their feet. At the head of a party of mounted men at arms rode the Baron of Redmont, his Battlemaster and Gilan in tow. They stormed into the village, their horses skidding to a halt and sending stones and pebbles skipping across the dry and cracked ground. Fell did a rough count, and came to the product of twenty mounted men at arms, along with the Baron and his Battlemaster. They all dismounted hesitantly, the Baron, spotting Cedric, stepped up to greet him. They shook hands and exchanged greetings. From the crowd of men at arms Gilan slipped past them, moving towards Halt with a guarded expression on his face. Fell shook hands with the Baron as Cedric introduced the two, Fell noticed the uncertain look on the Baron's face and took it into account. Strider was standing discontentedly behind Fell's right shoulder, looking out of place.

"Your daughter I presume?" The Baron asked and Fell almost choked, behind him he heard Strider smother a short bout of laughter. He could feel her grinning behind him.

"No sir, she's my Deputy." The look of astonishment on the Baron's face struck a laugh from where Marek stood on the verandah, no one seemed to notice the out break as it died off into a chuckle.

Fell and Strider made their way back to were Marek stood, Fell looking a little crestfallen, "I don't really look that old," He said, then added a little awkwardly, "Do I?" In all reality, Fell was only a few years older than his Deputy, but many times people looked for believable explanations for the presence of Strider that didn't involve her being a warrior.

Marek patted him on the shoulder, "Of course not Grand pappy." Fell shot him another one of his famous withering looks that Marek received often, and gathered his weapons. Strider and Marek followed suit, but not before a short figure came jogging into the village, Strider didn't need to look past the lofty brown hair to recognize her apprentice. His face was clouded with worry and concern, it was clear from his demeanor that something was definitely wrong. Glade stopped to catch his breath before he spoke, his voice was weak and came out as a gasp.

"Fell, the Cult's on their way."

* * *

Instantly Fell and his Deputy were galvanized into action, Cedric consulted with the Baron, speaking rapidly to him in a hushed tone. Then the Baron began to call his men together, he rallied them with a wave of his hand and issued his orders for the attack. The men at arms began to file out towards the forest, stopping to hold a position at the front of the crumbled wall of masonry. Marek, Strider and Fell slipped past them, tugging masks and cowls into place. Fell stopped as he passed the Ranger's, Glade was standing behind his leader, breathing regularly now. His demeanor had changed, and he looked calm and composed.

"Glade's going to stay with you, he'll tell you when we signal, but I'm pretty sure you'll catch it."

Halt nodded and Glade fell in line nervously with them, Strider clapped him on the shoulder and wished the Ranger's and her apprentice good luck. Then, following her leader and Marek, she disappeared into the trees.

Glade watched them go, feeling oddly insignificant standing next to the Ranger's astride their shaggy mounts. He kept his gaze focused on the forest edge and his right hand on the hilt of his dagger at his right hip. What ever came threw the trees, he was prepared to fight it.

* * *

Rowan listened intently to his brother as Cedric directed where he should stay in the battle.

"Try to stay close to me or one of the other Knights, alright?" Rowan nodded, he held the hilt of his short sword tightly, his knuckles turning white. He hoped for not the first time he'd arrived in Faladore that he could return to the easy life of a thief.

* * *

"Ok, let's do this!" Fell's voice slipped over the small crowd of Shadows, and they slowly dispersed into the trees, fading soundlessly into their designated positions. Someone gently tapped Fell's shoulder and he turned to see his Deputy. Her could see the flickering fire in her hazel eyes and he felt a spark of relief flood through him. He'd always been charmed by the tawny colored eyes and the fierce flame that lit them.

"Hey, you'll be careful right?" The usually shrewd tone was replaced by a discreet sense of worry. Fell smiled and rested a hand on his Deputy's shoulder.

"I'll be fine."

Strider nodded, and smiled subtly. Fell wanted to say more, but he bit his tongue as his the girl turned and slipped into the trees. He didn't have the heart to stop her.

* * *

Their horses trotted swiftly through the forest, ambling along in a neat order. Behind them marched twenty foot soldiers, all carrying swords at their waists' and shields on their backs. Little did they know they were being stalked. All around them crept the Shadows, slinking through the under brush with gentle care. They stealthily flanked the Cult's party of soldiers, and somewhere close to the tree line a Shadow let out a piercing whistle.

* * *

Abelard and Blaze flung their heads wildly at the whistle, and Glade moved several steps away cautiously, suddenly a mottled grey shape broke free of the trees and streaked across the stretch of barren land and dirt. Glade whistled, the sound lower than the sharp high pitched call that had been emitted from somewhere in the forest. The shape raced belly low to the ground to the boy's side.

"That was the signal," He said, though Halt and Gilan had already assumed as much. The boy was ruffling Ghost's ears kindly, and the dog's tail wagged bag and forth rapidly.

"Good boy." Glade cooed and the dog barked as if to give his own praise to the apprentice.

* * *

Only a few minutes passed before the Cult reached the tree line, they spread out quietly, the mounted warriors taking up the rear line with the foot soldiers in front. At the head of it all was the distinct figure of Strider's brother. Halt could see the resemblance from where he stood, the loose brown hair and pale skin was shockingly similar to Strider. The light blue eyes showed no emotion, and Halt was almost disappointed, _so this is the man who wants to kill me._

It would have been an agonizingly simple matter for Halt to raise the bow resting across his lap and put an arrow through the seemingly arrogant man before him. However the Ranger was still, his gaze fixed on the leader of the Cult. Beside him he could hear The Baron Arald and Rodney exchanging words in a hushed undertone. Then the leader of the Cult nudged his horse forward and spoke, his rough voice carrying easily to the Baron and his men.

"I wasn't expecting such a large reception!" He called, and the Baron smiled grimly. The Baron didn't reply and the Cult's leader continued in his aggravating monotone.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced, I am Lord Derek, Leader of the Cult of Day."

"Baron Arald, of Redmont Fief." The Baron's reply was short and to the point, and Derek smiled in a twisted fashion.

"You can surrender now and be privileged to become a slave of the Cult, or you can die by our hand."

The Baron was shaking his head in disgust, "Your mistaken, the choice for surrendering is one for _you_ to make."

"As you wish then, we choose to fight for this village." The line of Cult began to bristle as weapons were drawn. A blood curdling cry split the air, and the line of attackers surged forward. The horsemen darted rapidly around the foot soldiers and charged for the force of men at arms awaiting them. The Baron raised his drawn sword and sent his own men forward into a attack.

Arrows hissed threw the air, embedding themselves in the chests of the onward surging force. Halt and Gilan kept their mounts in a constant flurry of movement, making themselves less appealing to be struck with a cross bow bolt as they avidly emptied saddles.

Suddenly the on surging force began to turn, milling around in confusion as they were struck down from behind. Halt smiled as he saw cloaked figures slipping from the trees. He'd lost sight of Glade soon after the charge, and he spotted the scanty figure standing up to a foot soldier almost double his size. The boy slipped under an arcing sword blow and plunged his dagger forward into the exposed side of his opponent The dog had followed Glade out into the skirmish, and the mottled shape nipped viciously at the heels of the Cult, bearing his teeth in a vehement snarl.

* * *

Strider dropped from the tree, swinging from the branch in an un-lady like fashion. She slammed into a nearby mounted Cult feet first. They toppled from the horse in a tangle of cloak and studded battle plate, Strider let out a grunt of satisfaction as her dagger bit into flesh. Strider rolled away from the downed foe, shaking off the fall, she snatched the halter of a rearing horse, the rider on it's back was thrown in the confusion, another Shadow was there to finish him off and Strider let the frightened animal go as she slipped away back into the heat of the battle.

The Shadows worked quickly, slitting the girths straps of saddles and drawing the attention of the foot soldiers with practiced ease. Many of them were met with the sudden fate of a dagger to their back, or the surprise of a franticly rearing horse.

In the confusion Fell lost sight of his Deputy, which was only to be expected in such a skirmish, but the promise he'd made to her was ringing in his ears as he downed a foot soldier with a swift thrust of his knife. Dust had been kicked into the air as horses charged towards one another and opponents wrestled against each other to gain a fatal advantage. Through the dust Fell couldn't spot the distinct shape of his Deputy, and he engaged in the battle once more, putting his promise aside for the moment. His words flashed vividly in his mind as he fought.

_I'm not going to let him hurt you, Jane._

_

* * *

  
_

With a nod to his former mentor, Gilan broke away from Halt and drew his sword. He'd relinquished the last of his arrows to Halt, and with a nod of farewell to the grizzled Ranger he'd nudged Blaze forward into the chaotic mass of horses and soldiers. His sure footed mount picked it's way around a wild eyed bronco, and Gilan's sword flashed out at the horses side. With a flick of his sword Gilan slit the straps of the saddle and let the rider slip from the narrow backed horse and into the dirt to be trampled by passing steeds.

The Ranger's blade came up neatly to parry a downward slash from another mounted Cult member. The clashing and ringing of steel on steel, and the thundering of horses hooves' filled the air, Gilan could feel the blood pounding in his ears as the battle consumed him.

* * *

Halt's arrow flew true to it's mark, and the black shaft stood out distinctively against the silver chain mail of the Cult foot soldier. The swordsmen toppled over onto his side and lay ominously still. Another arrow was already nocked to the string neatly as Halt's gaze caught sight of a familiar shape. Even with the mask and cloak obscuring the face of the Shadow Halt could see the defiance set in every line of Strider's body. She had one hand clenched around the hilt of a long dagger, her thumb resting on the hilt pommel and the blade sprouting from the opposite end of her white knuckled fist. She was only a few feet away from the tree line, and any retreating Cult was quickly slowed by her rushed assault on them. Suddenly a large brutish horse with a jet black coat and a flare of white on it's wide muzzle swung it's hooves towards her. The girl darted underneath the rearing horse, swallowing her heart as the hooves swished past her head, she tucked and rolled away rapidly, springing to her feet several feet away.

The black horses' mount was Derek himself, swinging his sword in a precise arc for Strider. The girl's dagger remained in her hand, the defiance in her eyes never faltered as she ducked out of the way of the massive horse and her brothers monotonously vicious sword strokes. It would take one false move to spell the end for the lean figure, and Halt felt his heart sink as she stepped backwards, her heel caught on a tree root and sent her tumbling back against the trunk of a tree.

Suddenly there was a hiss and deep throated thrum, an arrow seem to sprout in Derek's right shoulder, he let out a disgruntled cry of pain, his attack slowed for the time being as he pulled the arrow from his flesh. Strider leaped to her feet and was out of harms way in an instant, casting a thankful look back at the mounted Ranger, but her relief was short lived as Derek rebounded and sent his horse barreling after her. She took to the trees, turning sharply and slipping out of the way of the horses massive hooves. Faintly Strider remembered just how she'd gotten her name, running. She'd laughed at it, thinking that running could never be more helpful than cowardice. Now that she was running for her life while being chased by a mammoth of a horse and her crazed sword swinging brother, she wasn't so sure it was a bad talent after all.

* * *

Fell had watched his Deputy flee, chased off into the forest without much choice, and now he was swinging astride a startled bronco, sending the bay horse into a rapid gallop in pursuit. The trees seemed to fly past, and he could hear a horse and rider approaching him from behind. Gilan pulled up beside him, Blaze's own gallop several paces faster than Fell's horse. Together they raced after Derek and his prey.

* * *

Strider dove behind a tree, falling into a forwards roll as the heavy bladed sword hissed past her. She pushed herself to her feet, feeling her legs cry out in pain at the movement. Running was futile, and Strider was tiring, she couldn't keep up the ducking and dodging much longer. The weary girl would have to take a stand sooner or later, and she knew it had to be soon before she ran out of endurance. Sweat was already trickling down her neck and her breath came in ragged gasps as she struggled to keep an even pace.

The ground sloped sharply ahead, and Strider skidded sluggishly to a halt at the top of the rise. Ahead of her was the river she knew, and the rocky turf leading down to it was a steep climb, up and down. She looked back and could see her brother, and his twisted smile, she was still holding onto the dagger with a clenched fist. An alarm went off in her mind, _use it!_ And she did. Strider pulled her second blade and sidestepped deliberately, catching a downward sword stroke on crossed blades. What she didn't anticipate was the force of the blow. It sent her staggering back, and she felt her booted feet giving way to the crumbling of rock and dirt. She felt the ground being torn out from underneath her, a moment of vertigo, and then the excruciating pain of being slammed down on her shoulders. She toppled heels over head down the rocky slope. More than once she felt a sharp rock or a gnarled root bite into her as she rolled down the steep slope, her constant pace never diminishing until she hit the flat land.

A rough cough escaped her lips, she didn't try to get up, her limbs ached and she'd lost a knife in the rugged descent down the elevated slope. Everything tilted, and Strider wished the throbbing pain in her head would just ebb away. The girl could feel the stinging pain of what seemed to be a hundred scrapes and cuts all across her body. Strider raised an aching hand to her cheek, she could feel the slanted line of a cut and the warm sticky blood there.

The roaring river seemed to thunder against the rocks, but Strider was too dazed and confused to figure out where the sound was coming from, she settled for knowing the river was close by. Strider closed her eyes, and was greeted by a stab of pain.

The sound of hooves hammering against the rocky turf caused Strider to open her eyes again, above she could see the depleting canopy and a glimpse of the darkening sky. She'd been right, the clouds were about to give way to a storm. The hoof beats grew closer and she struggled to move, every part of her body screaming out in agony.

Finally she seemed to break threw the wave of pain holding her down and she staggered belatedly to her feet. A deep chuckle sounded nearby, and she looked up through the trickle of blood running into her right eye to see her brother trudging down the slope after her. She wiped the blood on her sleeve, wondering how things could possible be any worse. In her right hand she was still holding her knife, and she smiled in spite of herself. _Some knife, _she thought, moving back several paces away from her brother.

"Don't try to run, I don't like this game of cat and mouse. I just want to kill you slowly." Derek had left his horse behind, preferring to give chase on foot.

"I thought you wanted to kill the Ranger's." Strider accused.

"All in good time my dear, when we win this battle we will celebrate with the deaths of the filthy Ranger's. You however, die first."

Strider spat scarlet onto the ground, fighting to keep her vision steady and unwavering as she continued to retreat from her brother. Something told her to keep moving, just for a little longer. She looked over her shoulder and saw Druid's Leap, a double sided cliff that rose on either side of the river. It marked the roughest stretch of the river, and Strider made the mistake of retreating closer and closer to the gaping gorge.

"Over there!" Strider's gaze flickered up to the crumbling turf, and she spotted Gilan and Fell scrambling down the rough terrain. Derek's face flashed with annoyance, "Looks like I'll have to killer you quicker than I'd expected."

Strider felt her hope flee. It took her only a second to pull the dirk from her boot, she held it in her left hand shakily. She clenched her eyes shut for a moment. Strider took a deep breath, held it in, and started a fight she couldn't win. Her hazel eyes flashed with a deep sadness.

"After you."

Derek's face split into a twisted grin, and Strider felt her heart ache, what had happened to her brother? He lunged forward, his blade sweeping in for a slash directed at Strider's legs. Miraculously the dead beat girl leapt back in time, avoiding the crippling stroke without a moment to spare. She rushed towards her brother, stopping his counter stroke with her crisscrossing blades. The three cross guards locked together. Strider jerked her knee up under Derek's sword hand, gripping the up facing hilt with the top of her fists she crushed Derek's hand between knee and fists. The sword escaped his grip and dropped to the ground with a soft thud, Derek's left hand suddenly caught Strider in the jaw. It was a devastatingly effective left hook, and it sent Strider sprawling against the rocks. She felt the air leave her lungs with a _whoosh_ and the ground slammed into her back awkwardly, there wasn't any more air to expel from her.

Before Derek could stoop to pick up his sword a weight crashed into him, and he was driven to the ground, he felt Fell's arms slipping around his neck in a chokehold.

Strider didn't really pray to any Gods in particular, but as she drug herself to her feet she cursed every God she'd ever heard of. She was still cursing when Derek's elbow slammed into Fell's wounded side. The Shadow let out a choked cry of pain and Derek left him writhing in pain as he reclaimed his sword from the dirt. He turned to finish Fell off, when a stone caught him behind the right ear.

Furious, he spun to see Strider, hurling another rock towards him, he left Fell and went after her. Another rock hissed past Derek's head and he moved through the field of boulders and sun smoothed rocks with only one thought in his mind. _Kill her! _

Strider leaped from boulder to boulder, occasionally stopping to hurl a rock back at her brother as he ambled towards her. The salty spray of the river was caught by the wind and whisked up at her as she reached the edge of the cliff. Stretching across the span of the cliff was a fallen tree. Gnarled and twisted branches sprouted all around the surface of the stripping bark. Underneath the peeling bark was the actual tree, bleached white by the salty sea spray being hurled up high into the air by the river. Strider peered cautiously over the cliff edge, the rivers white spray soared into the air as the banks narrowed and crashed between the blunt cliff face. Druid's Leap was the narrowest stretch of the entire river, the usually wide banks turned slim, and all the churning water was forced to flow through the narrow fissure.

Behind Derek Gilan skipped from rock to rock, racing up the gradient land agilely. Derek turned and swung his sword at the Ranger, Gilan's blade flicked out to block the poorly aimed stroke. Derek's arm was suddenly jarred with pain as the swords met, and Gilan slipped around him, putting himself between Derek and Strider.

Without another moments hesitation Derek lunged forward, Gilan neatly parrying the first thrust with a flick of his sword. Derek's strikes were heavy and well aimed, and each time Gilan blocked he felt his arm giving away at the shear force of the blow. The Ranger made a snap decision and wet on the offense, driving Derek back with several lightning fast swipes. He switched from over hand to under hand, his attacks constantly varying, finally Derek planted his feet firmly on the sloping ground. The swords clashed together and the cross pieces were locked with one another. Derek and Gilan stood chest to chest, and Gilan felt a flash of fear as Derek began to force the Ranger to his knees. It would all be over soon.

* * *

Rowan cast his gaze around the dissipating battle expectantly, he spotted Cedric chasing off the last of the Cult. The battle for the most part was coming to an end, and to Rowan's relief he was still in one piece. Through out the battle he'd stuck close to Glade, the two finding they made a decent team. When they worked together they could quickly overcome a foot soldier, with Glade lunging out at the man and keeping him preoccupied it was a simple matter for Rowan to step in and finish him off. They stood together now, both sweat drenched and out of breath.

Among the fallen foot soldiers and horses came the dog, trotting up to them happily, a boot locked between it's massive teeth. Rowan exchanged a curious look with Glade, who shrugged and ruffled the dogs ears.

"Good dog, I think."

* * *

Derek's malevolent smile widened as Gilan gasped, he was clutching the hilt of his sword with two hands, and Derek was still able to force the young Ranger closer and closer to his grave.

Strider was glancing around helplessly, there were no more stones in sight, and she tugged off one of her boots, hurling it for her brother. It hit him with a resounding thud and Derek faltered. Gilan shoved forward with all his weight, sending Derek stumbling back several paces. With a vehement jerk of his sword, Derek ripped the hilt of Gilan's sword clear out of the Ranger's hands. The sword landed blade first in the ground behind Derek, out of Gilan's reach. The Ranger was already stepping back when a hand snatched his shoulder, half dragging him the rest of the way up the cliff.

"Come on!" Strider was urging him, tugging the Ranger towards the tree bridge, without hesitation the girl had leaped onto the trunk picking her way hurriedly along the trees twisting length. Gilan followed, pulling his saxe knife free of it's scabbard. He moved swiftly across the tree, feeling the slippery bark creak beneath his boots.

The wind gusted and swirled around the two as they slipped across the bridge, they made it to the halfway mark when Gilan looked down. He felt his heart lurch inside his chest. He found himself looking down a drop of at least a thirty foot straight drop into the treacherous waters of the Faladore river. His head swam, and Strider's hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

Derek was stepping onto the fallen tree, and the makeshift bridge let out a moan. It lurched beneath their feet and Gilan's boots began to slip from the bark, Strider snatched his hand as he grasped at the air. The sky let out a shriek of thunder, and Gilan saw the fear in Strider's hazel eyes. He gripped the girl's forearm tightly, and the tree lurched again in the wind once more. Strider's feet left the cold wood of the dead tree and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

Fell's scream rang out above the wind, and he watched in horror as the two plummeted into the raging waters of the roaring river.

"No!"

* * *

Halt heard Fell, and he swung Abelard towards the cliff without hesitation, he had his long bow in one hand as his horse raced along the cliff side. He raised it now, an arrow lunging forth from the smooth wood and arcing for Derek. The knight let out a cry of pain as the arrow took him in the side. Fell took the moment as an opportunity, and he buried his fist into Derek's gut, letting the heavily built man cripple to the ground in pain. Then Fell was peering over the cliff, his eyes searching for his Deputy. The rough waters of the river crashed against the sides of the cliff, he turned and he ran, towards Halt. All thoughts of the unconscious Derek forgotten.

The Ranger skidded to a stop beside Fell. "Where's Gilan, he was with you."

Fell swallowed hard, the worry in Halt's voice was all too obvious. Fell's voice came out as a croak as he told the Ranger that his former apprentice was on his way to a watery grave.

* * *

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	13. Chapter 13

**OK this is chapter 13!**

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* * *

Hitting the surging water of the river could not have been worse than hitting a brick wall. Gilan's breath was smashed from his lungs and he slammed into the swirling water. He tumbled head over heels in the icy torrent, and a wave of water shoved Gilan further down into the depths of the river. He could see the surface, vanishing from his sight, he let go of his saxe knife. Suddenly a hand seized his arm and he was being drug to the surface.

Strider's grip on Gilan was ebbing away, along with her strength. She broke the surface, coughing and sputtering for air. Gilan following suit close by her. Another wall of white water crashed over them, and they were knocked underwater. Strider felt the undertow nipping hungrily at her heels.

The river literally seemed to _roar_, and Gilan couldn't hear anything but the guttural rasping of the river. He felt Strider grip his arm and he looked at her, struggling to stay above the surface as the current threatened to drag them down. He could read the fear in her eyes, and each time they went under she thought it was the end. Then she would break the surface, and she would still be holding onto to Gilan.

Then they dropped. The river dipped suddenly the ground beneath them shifted course. Shadow and Ranger were jerked sideways, they felt a moment of free fall, and then the salty water was driving them under again. Strider felt Gilan's hand slip from her grasp, her eyes stung, and her lungs let out a stabbing ache. She couldn't breath, the cold water found a way into her throat and lungs. Strider could feel herself choking, and she struggled to the surface once more. Her cloak was missing, and she felt the burning of scratches and scars across her body that were now throbbing with the sting of salt water.

A hand snatched at her and she kicked for the surface, fighting back the cold hand of death. Gilan hauled her to the surface once more, pulling air into her lungs was an immense effort, and it sent pain shooting through her lungs. Another painfully powerful wave swept over them, and this time Strider felt herself driven into rock. Her right arm hit first, and a sharp edge dug into her skin, pain lanced through her arm, and she kicked off the hard surface, feeling Gilan's strong arm still clasping her.

"Up ahead there's a branch hanging low, I think we can reach it!" Gilan's yell sounded close to Strider's ear and she shouted her assent. Overhead the clouds rumbled, and then the rain began to poor down like hooves pounding against the earth. Thunder exploded, lightning arced across the sky, flashing dangerously against the muted silver clouds that swirled in the unwavering wind.

The tree branch Gilan had spotted dripped low into the water, the leaves that clung to the dying pine branch were slick with water and still a vivid green against the foam white river. The river dropped once more, this time not as drastically, and Gilan's hand tightened around Strider's.

"Now!" They groped for the branch simultaneously, their hands finding easy purchase on the still thriving tree branch. Their combined weight swung them towards the steep stone bank, and then the branch creaked alarmingly. It wouldn't hold them much longer.

* * *

Abelard's blindingly fast gallop kept Halt ahead of Fell and his own horses' rapid pace. The rain began to drench them and Halt urged Abelard along faster as he spotted the distinct face of Gilan,. The Ranger bobbed along the top of the water, gasping for air and struggling futilely against the force of the river. Halt felt his heart go out to the young Ranger, from the banks of the river their was little Halt could do to help his former apprentice. Then he saw the branch, and he smiled in spite of himself as Gilan and Strider lunged for it.

* * *

Gilan heard hooves skidding on the rough bank, and them a hand was snatching at his collar, Halt hauled him out onto the bank dropping him there with a damp thud. Gilan felt weakness over take him, he coughed and sputtered river water on the bank. Halt went to reach for Strider but it was too late. Strider felt her feet brush against the rivers bank for a moment, and then a wave crashed over her. She was ripped away from the branch, the rough twigs leaving small gouges in her palms as she was forced to let go. The undertow snatched her, dragging her away into the river.

* * *

Fell's horse whisked past Halt, he'd seen his Deputy, swallowed up by the vicious wave. He spotted her as she resurfaced, he nudged his horse to the side, his feet already slipping from the stirrups and the horse ran into the icy water of the river. Fell landed knee deep in the frosty current, and he waded forward, the horse stayed on the bank, the reins clutched in one of Fell's hands. The Shadow was counting on the horse to keep him from being swept away as well. He was far enough out into the water to seize hold of Strider's limp body, she'd felt the pain of a jagged rock slamming into her back, then the world was dark. Fell caught her, just before she slipped under the torrent, and out of his reach. Fell let go of the horse, confident he could make it back to the bank now, with his Deputy in his arms. Fell dropped to one knee as he reached the river bank, his Deputy slipping from his grasp and onto the rocky river bank. Her second boot had been lost in the fearsome waters of the river, and her cloak was long gone. She'd let go of her second knife, and she had no more knives hidden up her sleeves. Her arm guards were missing, discarded some where along the way.

Strider let out a cough, and Fell knelt beside her as she coughed up several mouthfuls of water, she leaned back against the river bank, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was beaten and bloodied, and Fell guessed she had a few sprained ribs, along with a jagged cut across her right arm. He tore off a small piece of his tunic that was still dry and pressed it against the wound, Strider winced then held still, apart from the shivers that racked through her body. Fell shrugged off his cloak, which was half dry from the rain and wading through the river, and draped it over his Deputy.

"Fell, if I never see a god damned river again it'll be too soon…" Fell smiled in spite of the battered shape his Deputy was in, he watched as she closed her eyes, and then she was asleep.

"Is she alright?" Gilan and Halt were standing nearby, Gilan was on his feet, looking pale as a ghost and just as frail. Halt had an arm around the younger man's shoulders to support him, Gilan too was missing his cloak, along with his quiver and saxe knife.

Fell nodded, "I think she's going to be fine. What about you Gilan?"

Gilan shrugged and shuddered, "I don't think I'll ever swim again." Fell grinned up at the Ranger.

"We should get out of the rain, you look like you could use a warm bed and a hot dinner."

Gilan and Halt didn't object, and as the storm raged wildly they mounted and left the river behind them. Gilan whistled, and blaze came galloping to him, the Ranger managed to drape himself limply over the back of his horse as he was led back to the village. Halt rode beside him, ready to catch the Ranger if he fell.

Fell rode with Strider, the unconscious girl leaned against him as the horses trudged along through the forest. The leader of the Shadows had swung up behind his Deputy and slipped his arms around her to reach the reins. Her head rested against Fell's shoulder and his cloak was wrapped tightly around her, her bare feet hung down on either side of the horse. She didn't so much as twitch the whole ride back to the village.

The village was quiet, not a soul was in sight as the drenched riders' approached the small settlement. Halt led the three horses and their exhausted riders' to the front of the Inn, a motherly looking lady was just leaving as they stepped onto the verandah. The woman had warm brown eyes and a face full of care, the instant she saw the weather beaten figures she let out a gasp of surprise.

"My lord! This simply won't due, follow me, follow me, you need to be seen by the healer right away!" Fell hesitated a moment before following the women, Strider cradled tenderly in his arms. The Ranger's followed after him, Gilan having trouble placing his feet down firmly on the ground without swaying. He was thankful for Halt's guiding hand on his shoulder.

The elderly woman led them a few houses over, and into a small dwelling filled the warm scent of fresh herbs and coffee. The warmth of the large entryway almost knocked Fell down, and he felt his knees going weak at the homely feel of the place. The elderly woman showed them into another large room with a crackling fire and a hall leading off into the rest of the house. She led Fell to am empty room, instructing him to stay there until she returned and led Gilan and Halt to another. The room was small, and square in shape. The walls were made of wood lined horizontal, the floor matched the walls in a similar fashion. Along on wall stood a wooden chair and a small night stand with a basin of clean water on it. The bed was in the center of the room, the headboard pressed firmly against the wall opposite of the door. A small lantern placed on the night stand sent light spilling through the room.

Fell gently laid his Deputy down on the bed, he brushed his hand against her forehead and felt the beginnings of a fever. He bit his lip nervously, he knew he shouldn't worry about his Deputy. She was made of tougher stuff, and he was fairly certain a fever wouldn't claim her life. He pulled his sodden cloak away from her, reaching for a dry blanket to drape over her instead. He left his cloak on the chair and waited calmly for the healer.

* * *

The room Halt and Gilan had been led to was almost identical to Strider's. Gilan stumbled towards the comfy looked bed, Halt's had steadying him for at least the tenth time in the last several minutes. The grizzled Ranger helped Gilan settled onto the bed, and Gilan kicked off his boots, unclasped his cloak and felt Halt tugging his soaked jerkin and tunic over his head. He'd lost his quiver in the fall and his sword was still at the cliff he realized with a sudden wave of worry. His bow, thankfully, was fastened to his saddle which was still strapped to Blaze's back.

Once Halt had reassured him that he'd take care of Blaze for him Gilan closed his eyes, not being able to bare staying awake any longer. The woman checked Gilan over quickly, and finding no serious injuries she tended to a few of his sprained ribs, binding him tightly in clean white bandages. She then sent Halt away, telling him to get something to eat and clean up. Reluctantly, the Ranger agreed, leaving Gilan to rest.

* * *

Fell was rushed from the room by a gentle old lady whose hair was heavily streaked with grey. Soon after Fell had been left alone with his injured Deputy the elderly lady had slipped into the room, explaining that she was a healer and knew what she was doing. She then sent Fell away with the promise that he could see Strider in the morning. He left, leaving is cloak still draped over the chair and a discontent look on his face. Fell went with Halt to tend to the horses.

"They shoed you away too?" He asked as they led the horses to the stables. Halt nodded.

"They always do," He replied gruffly. They tended to the tired horses in silence. Once they where done they made their way to the Inn. They were greeted by an ecstatic group of men at arms and Shadows. They'd all made themselves at home in the cozy dining room of the Inn, and the Inn Keeper's wife brought fresh clothes for Fell and Halt, directing them to a wash bin out back. Once they were clean they rejoined the excited dinners, seeing for once that the Inn was packed full to the rafters.

"We won buddy, we won!" Marek shouted as he danced in circles, gripping Fell in a tight bear hug, Fell's feet didn't even touch the ground and he felt like a very small child again. Fell assured Kerjack that Strider was in one piece, enjoyed a quick meal of fresh stew and warm bread. Then he stumbled up stairs to a room filled with beds lined up along the walls, tiredly Fell sunk onto one of the clean beds. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Sir Cedric, Baron Arald, and Sir Rodney greeted the grizzled Ranger with open arms, and they settled around a table to discuss the matters of the battle. All in all they were pleased with the outcome, the Cult's leader had escaped by some means, but for the moment, Araluen was safe from the threat of the sinister leader. The garrison would be replenished with a fresh and reinforced guard, and the Baron was highly intrigued by the Shadows. The subject of what was to be done about them had come to his attention over dinner, and Arald simply brushed the matter aside.

"Without them we wouldn't still have this village, we shouldn't be so quick to call them enemies just yet." Halt had been content with that, he'd enjoyed fighting along side the mischievous warriors, and he hoped they'd get another chance at an alliance in the future.

* * *

Halt and Kerjack were seated around a small table, sipping coffee and trading idle conversation occasionally. The next day had dawned bright and early, many of the Shadows had left for the encampment, sent out by Kerjack himself. The older man was far more experienced in ways of battle by Fell, and when Halt had voiced his query about the such fact Kerjack had merely shrugged.

"Fell's nothing short of a mastermind. He's more than fit to lead the Shadows than I am." Then a little awkwardly he added, "I'm more of a parent to Fell and Strider than a comrade sometimes."

Fell had woken and made his way downstairs, he'd approached the table and caught the last of Kerjack's words.

"Sometimes?" He asked with a look of shear disbelief on his face, "I don't think I've ever bothered anyone more than I bother Kerjack for advice in my entire life." Fell exclaimed as he flopped down into a chair beside Kerjack. The older man was heavier built than the Shadows' leader, something that Halt had come to find as common. Most of Fell's comrades bested him in size and girth, but his authority was rarely questioned.

"I don't know where the Shadows would be without this guy here," Fell said, elbowing Kerjack tenderly. "In fact, I think he's the only one without one our names."

Halt was once more interested in the Shadows, and the questioning glint in his dark eyes brought forth an explanation from Kerjack.

"Fell's real name is David, but to the Shadows he is simply known as 'Fell'. It's a title you have to gain. Your named for something you've done, or do."

Fell nodded, then continued were Kerjack left off with a quieter tone. "I got my name 'Fell' because of an accident I had. I went out on a patrol early in the day, we were patrolling the Breaking Cliffs, I went off on my own for just a minute, slipped on a wet rock and fell into a millpond."

Kerjack couldn't suppress a grin, "He came back to camp soaked and shivering, Marek picked out the name for him that same day."

"And Strider?" Halt asked, finding it amusing to hear about an embarrassing past time for Fell.

"For running." Fell retorted, "I don't think I've ever beat her in a straight race. What she lacks in strength she makes up for with her dominance in celerity and cunning wits."

Kerjack smiled, "She's as cunning as a wolf, and just as deceptive."

A ghost of a smile touched Halt's lips, "I gathered that." His mind had wandered back to the day he'd first met Strider. He's found the girl stubborn and arrogant, but she'd proved to be a loyal and crafty fighter.

Fell rose from his chair, letting out a deep breath, "Speaking of Strider, I think I'll go see how she's doing." Then he let out a muttered word of curse, "Right after I send out the late patrols…"

Kerjack smiled, "Already done, and they weren't late."

Fell's face split into a smile of pure gratitude. "You see, I can't live without this guy." Fell said, clapping Kerjack on the shoulder before fastening his knives to his belt and venturing out into the drizzling rain.

Halt had already gone to check on Gilan that morning, and he was content with knowing that his former apprentice was well fed and in great comfort as he regained his strength. He hadn't woken during Halt's visit, and one of the many healing maids had sent him away with a wary aura. She felt frightened of Halt, knowing he was a Ranger she figured he dabbled with the black arts, there was no telling what kind of harm he could do to her many patients. Gilan however was another story, it simply went against all her morals to leave the handsome young man in pain, even if he was a Ranger, he couldn't do much harm if he was suffering dearly from a fever or several cracked ribs. Halt seemed to sense her distrust and went away without resistance, he only wanted Gilan to return to full health, even if it meant him being distrusted and despised by the healers who tended to the wounded Ranger.

* * *

The previous days smothering rainstorm had washed away the suns blistering heat, and the morning air was crisp and cool. Fell walked slowly to the healer's house, enjoying the gentle chilling breeze on his skin.

"What can I do for you, sir?" It was the grey haired healer speaking, and Fell didn't blame her for not recognizing him. The night before when she'd promise him he could visit his wounded Deputy he'd been mud drenched and half asleep. He refreshed her memory, and she told him that he cleaned up real nice and showed him to his wounded Deputy.

"Here you are now, she's going to be just fine my dear." Then the healer left him alone with Strider. She was asleep, and he immediately took notice of the faded and weary composure. He moved to the chair pushed against the wall, he slid it closer, careful not to let it make much noise as he settled himself next to his Deputy. Suddenly she opened her eyes, and he realized she'd been awake the entire time.

"Is the maid gone?" She asked softly, her voice didn't reflect the weakened state she appeared to be in. She still sounded Fell's defiant Deputy.

He smiled and nodded, "Yes."

She let out a sigh of relief, "Good, I've had about enough of her poking and prodding me at any chance she gets."

"She only wants to make sure you'll be alright."

Strider sat up, the covers falling from her neck to her lap as she leaned against the headboard she coped with the pain the movement sent spiraling through her. She was wearing a clean grey tunic, with short baggy sleeves and clean brown trousers. Bandages wound themselves tightly around her right arm, from her wrist to her elbow. They twined themselves past her wrist and wrapped around her thumb and the top of her knuckles. He could see more bandages, some placed at random places along the length of her arms. Both palms were thickly bandaged. He couldn't see her legs, but he was fairly certain they were in the same condition.

"How do you feel?" Fell asked.

Strider shrugged, "Kind of like a bruise. Everything's sore, and I'm kind of cold still."

Fell nodded his assent, "It's my fault." He said, his tone dropping into sadness.

"Fell, it's not your fault I'm cold, they just don't realize I was half drowned in a frigid river."

Fell was shaking his head, "I didn't mean that your cold, I meant that you got hurt. I should've kept my promise, your brother should never have even gotten the chance to hurt you. I'm so sorry." Fell lowered his head and stared at the floor, shame faced.

Strider moved closer to the edge of the bed, she could see the disconsolate look on Fell's face and she suddenly had a heavy heart.

"Fell, it's not your fault."

"If I would have kept my promise, you wouldn't be here being poked and annoyed by nurses," He argued in his tortured tone of voice. Strider moved closer to him, swinging her feet ungraciously over the edge of the bed to rest on the smooth wood floor. Suddenly her fingertips were brushing gently against his chin, she raised his gaze to hers, and he felt suddenly entranced in her tawny eyes.

"David, you can't turn the tides," Her voice was silken and comforting. He heard every word she whispered. "Saying you're going to protect me from him is the most chivalrous thing any has ever done for me. You did keep your promise as far as I'm concerned. If you hadn't, I wouldn't be sitting here, I'd be six feet under, maybe more, you pulled me from the river after all. There's no telling how deep that watery grave would've been if you hadn't."

Fell smiled, and Strider pulled her hand away smoothly, he felt slightly better. "You still shouldn't have been hurt."

Strider laughed, "If I wasn't hurt in the battle you'd have to worry about exactly who's side I was on."

Fell was beaming, "I guess I would, wouldn't I?" He was silently recalling all the times that Strider had been injured during battles. He'd lost count.

* * *

Fell wasn't allowed to stay for long, but the healer gently reassured him that Strider was in good hands, and not to worry. His cloak remained with Strider, she offered it back to him, he'd denied, despite the recently cleaned softness and pungent clean scent that clung to it. He'd told her to keep it, in case she got too cold. She'd smiled warmly as he went on his way. Before he left he took a moment to visit Gilan. The young Ranger was slumped under the covers in his own room. He looked up when Fell entered.

"Hey," Fell greeted him lightly, and Gilan returned the greeting, his voice rough and scratchy from the salt of the river.

"Hey Fell." Gilan moved, wincing as he rolled onto his back and drug himself into a sitting position. His ribs let out a vicious ache.

"How do you feel?"

"Better than I did last night. I still can taste salt though."

Fell grinned as he leaned on the door frame, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Gilan noticed how odd it was to see Fell without his cloak and knives, he looked more like an adulterous thief than a leader of any sort. Gilan sighed inwardly, he must look the same to the lean muscled Shadow. Like Strider, the only thing Gilan had been permitted to do that morning so far was wash, and eat. With his sore throat Gilan was offered steaming soup for breakfast, and it soothed the stinging ache considerably. The rest of the chilly morning he had spent sleeping, or thinking laboriously about the previous day. The battle was still fresh in his mind, and when the Ranger closed his eyes he could almost feel the rough torrent of the river tugging at him, threatening to drag him under.

"How's Strider?" Gilan asked after a moment of silence.

"She's doing alright, she seems a little bit anxious, she doesn't take well to being injured, or ill."

Gilan grinned, he could see by Strider's short temperament exactly what Fell meant. In truth, Gilan hated being unable to do anything other than rest, but he was grateful for the coffee. It was in an abundance, and one of the healers helping maids had taken notice that the Ranger seemed to enjoy the aromatic drink. She'd brought him a second mug after he'd finished one with his breakfast, and he was overly thankful for it. The same maid had also informed him of Halt's visit, and Gilan took note of her careful tone. She didn't seem to enjoy speaking of Halt, the maid was almost wary of the grizzled Ranger, and Gilan expected that Halt had taken notice of this as well. The ignorant tone of the healer as she threatened to scourge Fell by means of poisonous herbs brought Gilan back to the present. Fell was grinning and waving a hand in farewell.

"I've got to go."

Gilan smirked back, "Yes, I wouldn't want you to be forced to contract a possibly fatal illness on my behalf." Fell's grin widened.

"Get well soon, Gilan." Then he was gone, leaving Gilan to his thoughts.

* * *

"Honestly I don't know very much about their leader." Fell was back at the Inn, he was speaking with Baron Arald and the two Battlemasters, Cedric and Rodney, along with Halt and Kerjack about the Cult. They wanted to know as much as possible about the Cult and the Shadows. When Arald had asked about the Cults' leader, Fell could only shrug.

"I can't say I know very much about him, I've never actually sat down to dinner with him. I've only met him once, I didn't really have time to jot down his personality, he seemed content with trying to kill my Deputy." Then after a moment of thought, Fell went on, "I do know that he's been keeping a careful eye on the Ranger's, he seems to be wary of the Corps."

Halt nodded his assent, "He should be."

Arald seemed eager to know more about the Cult. "D'you really think they have the force to wage war against Araluen?" His question was very straight forward, a dark look crossed Fell's face.

"He's got more than enough force, they could easily cripple the Shadows without a second thought. While our numbers only range roughly around a mere hundred, the Cult has at least several thousand, or more men waiting in Gallica." Fell looked very solemn as he continued, "I think the only reason he hasn't done away with the Shadows completely yet is because he doesn't want to waste the force. If he plans on killing us off, were going to make sure we take a lot of his men with us."

Kerjack, who seemed to be the most rational and least aggressive of all the Shadows Halt had met so far spoke up. "This doesn't have to be the end of our alliance, if it does come to war, we'd be honored to fight alongside you against the Cult." Fell nodded his agreement.

Arald smiled, "Sounds like a plan." He had a wandering thought, could he trust the Shadows?

Fell grinned, "Skeptic? Don't be, it's only logical for you to be cautious, we feel the same way. This isn't exactly familiar ground for us."

Rodney had to admit, Fell's words were well spoken, as young as the leader might be, he seemed to have some form of wisdom lurking about him. The diplomatic discussion continued, and the five men spoke about a possible temporary alliance that would allow the Shadows to be present in the Kingdom of Araluen.

* * *

Strider winced as the elderly healer applied a healing salve to her stinging palms. The healer had come along with her herbs and salves a while after Fell had left, she wanted to check Strider's hands, along with her several other aching injuries. Strider had several more gashed from the tumble down the rocky turf by the river, most of which were not severe, but the healer was thorough.

"It might be just a cut, but infection can kill."

Strider had sighed and held out her hands, wriggling every so often at the pain in her hands. Above the rest of the aching scrapes and bruises were a few sore ribs. None were sprained or broken, but the healer exclaimed that the soreness was a result of rough bruising, and would go away with rest. The healer wrapped the rest of the bandages.

"There you are, my dear." The healer began packing up her supplies as Strider experimentally flexed her hands, clenching and unclenching them into fists, she was satisfied that the pain was only a dull ache now.

"Thanks, is it all right if I go for a walk, to visit someone else who was injured?"

The healer looked at Strider suspiciously, her dull grey eyes narrowed sharply, then she nodded.

"Oh alright, but you best get some rest once your done."

Strider murmured another word or two of thanks, then she stood and left the healer to finish collecting her pots of salve, Strider crept through the long hall of the Healer's Den. That's what the maids who tended to the patients were calling it, their were at least fifteen doors along the one hall, and the number of maids was an estimated five or six from Strider's guess. It took her only a bit of exploring and poking into a few rooms to find Gilan's.

The Ranger was sitting up, flipping through pages of a book and looking rather discontent.

"I didn't think Ranger's liked to read." She said, stepping through the doorway, her feet made soft muffled thuds against the floorboards.

Gilan looked up, he wasn't the slightest but startled by Strider's sudden appearance.

"I didn't think women fought in wars." Gilan was grinning broadly, and Strider returned the warm gesture, moving to sit in a chair beside Gilan. He noticed her short brown hair was brushed behind her ears, a few strands too short to be brushed back hung to the side of her face. He was once more reminded of an errant thief.

"I can't say it's a common occurrence," Strider admitted, "So how do you feel?"

Gilan shrugged, "A little bit restless, this lack of activity is driving me insane."

Strider let out a snort of contempt, "Your telling me, they tried to put sleeping herbs in my lunch because I refused to sleep. I told the Healer, Helen, that she slipped anything into my food I'd slip something into hers."

Gilan rolled his eyes, "I can almost see you doing that."

"Well of course, do you want to help?"

Gilan chuckled softly, "That's alright, I think I'll stick to my book reading."

Strider's smile faded and her voice lost it's humorous touch, "I never did get to thank you for saving me."

Gilan shrugged, "I wouldn't say I saved you exactly."

"You kept my brother from gutting me like a fish on the cliff, then you kept me from drowning. That means a lot Gilan, thanks." Strider leaned down and gently kissed his cheek, her lips just barely brushed against Gilan's skin. The Ranger was reminded oddly of a noblewoman by the delicate touch, he almost didn't think it was Strider giving the thanks, he'd already become accustomed the quarrelsome and defiant demeanor of the girl, or woman, he corrected himself. He guessed Strider was at least seventeen years of age, old enough to be wed.

Suddenly there was a gentle knock on the door frame, a young maid dressed in a blue dress and soft white apron was standing there, a cup of coffee in her gentle hands. She was slightly taller than Strider, with ashen blonde curls that reached her shoulders. With high cheek bones and a wonderfully tan complexion, she was quite the young beauty. At the sight of Strider her blue eyes blinked, losing some of their grace.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know I was interrupting something." Her voice was soft, and Strider was reminded of the sweet taste of sugar at the kindness in her tone.

"That's alright, I was just leaving." Strider slipped past the maid as she greeted Gilan, handing him the coffee, the Shadow stopped in the doorway and looked back at him.

He saw her mouth the words to him when the maid's back was turned, "Knock 'em dead." Gilan blushed, and then Strider had disappeared into the hall.

* * *

Helen, the Healer of Faladore village gave Strider a threatening look as the lanky figure slunk back to her room, a grin dying on her lips as she went. Strider had left Gilan's room, and went along with visiting the rest of the patients, popping in on a few unsuspecting Shadows for brief conversations. Helen had caught her doing so, and now she would have Strider confined to her small room to rest, and leave the other patients alone. Strider went without force, feeling like a disobedient child. She'd been feeling like that a lot lately, and she was becoming almost accustomed to it. The restlessness Gilan had complained of drifted over Strider as she flopped down lazily on the bed. She let out a long sigh, she didn't like the Healers' beds. They were too soft, she missed her bed roll and her tent. It had a feeling that reminded her vaguely of the home she'd left behind. Strider closed her eyes, and slipped into a world of nightmares.

_Her brother was standing over her, naked sword in hand, a twisted smile on his face. All around stood the friends she'd fallen in line with after her exile. They ringed around her like a circle. They all stared at her with disappointment on their faces. They were staring at Strider with a deep hatred, a vehement rancor seemed to dominant their many faces. Accusations were thrown forth at the girl, she looked down, and with horror she realized she was covered with blood. The hot sticky liquid clunk to her, the rank odor of it made her want to retch._

"_Murderer!"_

"_Traitor!"_

"_Conniving thief!"_

_The accusations rang loud in Strider's ears, she felt fear rise up in her. She stared at the blood on her hands. They were right. She was everything they accused her to be._

Strider woke with a start, she inhaled sharply, feeling the breath catch in her throat as she did so. The stench of blood hung heavy in the air around her, slowly she came back to reality, the yells of her dream faded out. The scent of herbs came back to her. She could hear footsteps as someone passed by her door. She felt relief, she was back in the village of Faladore, confined to her room. Nobody knew about her past. Nobody knew what she'd done.

Slowly Strider slipped out from underneath the covers, her bandaged feet touching the floor with a soft murmur of muffled movement. She crept to the door and cracked it open, the hall was silent, no one was there at the moment, she slithered from the room, feeling like a wolf sneaking among a herd of sheep. It took her only a few minutes to find her way out of the large building, she felt the cool night air surround her, and she smiled. It felt unimaginably good to breathe in fresh air. The verandah of the Healer's Den was surrounded by a small sturdy railing of oak wood. Strider leaned on the wooden guard rail, staring up into the night. The sky was a banner of stars, the moon shined down on the forest and village, washing everything in a heavenly blanket of silver light. There wasn't a cloud in the sky.

"I didn't think they'd let you out so soon." Strider almost jumped a foot in the air at the sound of Halt's voice, the Ranger had snuck up on her without the slightest hint of difficulty. She regained her sense and shrugged.

"They don't know I'm out here, if they did, they'd probably feed me poison ivy."

Halt stepped onto the verandah, the cowl of his cloak rested on his shoulders, he'd come to check on Gilan, but he didn't mind sharing a few words with Strider before hand.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"That depends, are you talking about mental or physical health?"

Halt shrugged, "Whichever."

"I'm fine," Then she sighed and turned to meet Halt's gaze. "Fell told me about what happened at the cliff. You put an arrow through my brother, but you didn't kill him."

"Your right, your brother's alive." Halt's stony gaze and grim tone gave nothing away.

"I'm not exactly a stranger to Araluen you know, I've been here for quite awhile now. I know a thing or two about Ranger's, I've heard the rumors."

Halt cocked an eyebrow, "So you think I'm a dark magician of some sort?"

Strider chuckled softly, "No, I don't, but I do think you could put an arrow exactly where you wanted it, no matter what the distraction. Why didn't you, it wouldn't have been much of an effort to have killed my brother, you could have put an end to his reign then and there."

Halt's eyes flashed in the shadow of the overhanging roofing of the verandah. "My shoulders still a bit bothersome from the assassins, I was a little off with my shots yesterday."

Strider let out a snort of contempt, "How convincing," She said snidely, then added sardonically, "Don't make me get the Healer Halt, you won't like confinement any more than Gilan does."

Halt stayed silent for a few moments before he spoke, "Would you be happier if I'd killed your brother?"

Strider shifted her weight from one foot to another, she thought hard for several seconds then she came to a decision. Halt had never heard her speak in a softer tone. "No, I wouldn't have been. He's still my brother, no matter what he's done, or what he'll do, I'm still going to miss him when he's gone. I'm already missing him." Strider's words were as much as a confession to herself as they were to Halt. The grizzled Ranger smiled faintly.

"Then I made the right decision by wounding him, and not killing him."

"But Halt, doesn't your loyalty to Araluen matter more than my opinion of my brother?"

Halt nodded, "Of course, but would killing your brother really have brought the Cult to their knees?"

Strider's shoulders sagged, she didn't like the way Halt was turning every one of her questions for him, into questions for herself. She'd picked up the hint that he didn't like it when people did that. "Well no, someone else would step up, take his place, and probably pursue his same interests."

"Then I haven't done anything wrong by letting him live. I didn't exactly plan on letting him get away, I was going to go back for him. He would have been a good prisoner to keep, he could've told us all about the Cult and their plans."

Strider smiled, "Before Gilan and I ended up in the river."

Halt grunted, "I didn't exactly think you were serious when you promised to throw yourself into the river."

Strider grinned, "Yeah, me neither."

"I'm going to go check on Gilan," Halt said, and Strider stepped forward and hugged him, the grizzled Ranger let out a short series of gruff words that Strider didn't catch.

"Thanks, Halt." Halt smiled, and went to see his former apprentice.

* * *

**PLEASE REVIEW!!!**

**Question for ya'll: What do you all think about a sequel? Review and let me know please!**


	14. Chapter 14

**THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! ^_^**

**Here's the almost last chapter of The Shadows of the South. Only one more to go, along with an Epilogue. I haven't decided on a sequel, but there's still a war on it's way to Araluen, so it is a possibility!**

* * *

"Here you are," Glade said, tossing a pack and a pair of boots onto his mentor's bed. She murmured her thanks and began riffling through the bag, she found extra arm guards, a clean cloak and fresh clothes, along with an extra knife or two. She didn't take the time to count. Strider hadn't asked Glade to bring her this gear, and she stared at him dumbfounded.

"What's this for?" She asked. Glade smiled.

"The patrol your taking me on."

Strider smirked at him, and he went to wait outside while she changed. It felt good to be a Shadow again, and she tugged on her spare boots with a hint of pride. Strider always kept spare clothes and gear packed away in her saddle bags in her tent, what puzzled her was just how Glade found out about her spare gear. She knew it was hers by the comfy fit of the boots, the faded leather of the arm guards and the slightly under oiled edge of her dagger that fit snugly into her boot.

Strider had coaxed Fell into taking his cloak back, and she pulled her own on with a breath of relief. It was amazing what a few days of rest could do for a persons enthusiasm. Strider left the Healer's House grinning from ear to ear, she met Gilan on the way out. He was making his way towards the Inn. It was a little before noon, and thick damp air hugged anyone out doors with a dozen humid hands.

"This is great." Strider said stretching as the three of them walked towards the Inn.

Gilan nodded, "It's definitely better than being cooped up inside all day." The young Ranger's side still ached, but the pain had dulled enough for him to be released from the smothering care of the maids and the Healer, and he was grateful. Glade and Strider followed the Ranger into the Inn. Halt and the Baron were sitting at a small table, speaking to one another when they entered, Halt looked up as he heard the soft footsteps of Gilan as he approached.

"Glad to see you on your feet." He commented, and Gilan nodded.

"It's great to be back on my feet." Gilan replied cheerily. Strider's gaze was quickly searching the Inn. The Baron noticed the action, "Looking for Fell?"

"Yes, actually, have you seen him?"

"He left awhile ago, he said he'd be back sooner or later."

Strider looked content, and the Baron silently recalled the battle several days earlier. The talk of an alliance with the Shadows was daunting. He wasn't sure it was worth it, but he'd seen Strider fight, he'd seen all the Shadows fight. They all seemed dead set on their cause, and relentlessly determined.

"Care to stay for a drink?" The Baron offered the Shadows. Strider shook her head apologetically.

"I've got to go," Strider said, nudging Glade, "He's taking me out on a patrol."

Glade shrugged, "Well somebody's got to keep you in shape."

Gilan grinned. "I'm sorry, who's the mentor here?" His inquiry caused Strider to roll her eyes before she followed Glade out of the Inn, and into the forest.

* * *

They moved swiftly through the forest, moving stealthily as they whisked through the trees at an even pace. Their gazes skimmed the forest trees, they listened intently to every murmur of sound. They loped through the forest side by side in companionable silence.

"Oh no, the thief is back," Marek slumped in his chair at the table in the Commandment cabin of the Shadows. Strider rolled her eyes at him, murmured greetings to Kerjack and Marek, and settled at the table with her apprentice. They shared a few words, a short laugh, and then Marek and Kerjack herded Glade out the door for a training session.

Strider sighed deeply, still recovering from her injuries, she couldn't join them as much as she would have liked to. She felt a dull ache of loneliness, and stifled another sigh.

"You don't look very happy." Strider turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Fell was standing in the door way, leaning on the door frame of his room and smirking deviously. His cloak was laying on the small ledge adjacent to the fire place, along with his

"You don't look very commanding," Strider shot back at him, he shrugged, an awkward contortion in his slouched position.

"In this case, I'm not supposed to be. Right now I'm not Fell your leader, I'm Fell your trusty, charming, and jaw droopingly handsome friend. Now tell me what's bothering you."

Strider frowned, "Nothing is bothering me Fell. I'm fine."

Fell rolled his eyes, "For the love of thieves," he moved to an empty chair and sat across from his Deputy. "You can't lie to me any better than you can sprout wings and fly." Strider hated the matter of fact tone Fell had adopted, but she didn't voice her annoyance bluntly. "Now you can choose to tell me what's wrong, or I could have Kerjack tell me."

Strider frowned, "How are you sure Kerjack knows what's bugging me?"

Fell smiled, "So there is something bothering you."

"No," Strider snapped, "I never said that."

"You implied it, now are you going to tell me or not?" Fell's green eyes glittered warmly, his was beaming and Strider couldn't stand it.

"Right now, _your_ bothering me Fell."

Fell didn't look phased, "And…" His voice was inviting, and Strider looked away, as if to look off into her thoughts before she turned back to him and muttered an answer.

"My brother."

Fell bit his lip, a sign that he was thinking, then he raised his chin inquiringly. "What's he done, or doing, to bother you?"

Strider lifted her shoulders, and then dropped then lazily in a half shrug, "Knowing he's still alive, and that he's not yet finished with Araluen is enough to drive me crazy."

Fell sighed, his lanky arms found their way across the table, his arm guards brushing against the wood of the table, his hands wrapped around Strider's, and he waited for her to go on.

"I feel like I should've been able to do something, I should be able to stop him, right? He's my brother after all."

Fell was shaking his head, and his voice was quiet and soft, a tone he used on rare occasions. "That's not your fault. No one is expecting you to do anything drastic about your brother."

Fell's warm hands gently stroked Strider's up turned palms with a tickling touch. "That doesn't mean I shouldn't do something. No one expected for me to go after the previous leader of the Cult, and I did. Why can't I do it again?"

Fell smiled, it was a sad consoling gesture, and it made Strider feel better, "You can't do it again because I won't let you. I wouldn't like you to go after any leaders of the Cult without my consent. This sounds like a recurring conflict, your not going dramatic on me now, are you?"

Strider shook her head, feeling slightly better about the matters at hand. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Fell's eyes softened, his smile transformed to warm and friendly, "Good, now won't you cook me lunch?"

The Shadow's Deputy rolled her eyes, then stood to obey, Fell following her to the kitchen to help.

* * *

The crowd of Knights and men at arms alike stood waiting, Shadows mingling among them, murmuring farewells and wishing one another good luck in future battles. An agreement treaty had been signed between the Baron of Redmont and Fell, allowing the Shadows to stay rooted in the forest for the time being. Thought they offered to leave, Arald insisted they stay a while longer, under strict circumstances of course. Stealing and thieving was done away with, and the Shadows would help protect the Faladore woods in return for supplies from the village. Most of the villagers and townspeople had been afraid at first, but in time they began to slowly trust the Shadows.

Fell shook hands with the Baron, smiling widely, showing off a set of gleaming white teeth as they traded friendly words. Marek clasped Gilan in a hug, lifting the Ranger off his feet and holding him in a bear hug for several moments.

"I'm gonna miss you Gillie!" He said, grinning as he set Gilan back on his feet. The young Ranger and Marek had become friends through the early events of the battle, and Gilan had to admit he would miss the burly Shadow.

Strider was more kind about her own good byes, she hugged Gilan tenderly, being careful not to jostle his sprained ribs.

"If I fall in another river you'll be the first to know," She told him, and turned to see Marek attempting to hug Halt. The grizzled Ranger's eyes were filled with a dangerous hostility for a moment, and Marek only grinned wider. He stood almost a full foot taller than Halt, but the look was enough to slow his assault, Marek instead clapped a hand on Halt's shoulder.

"I like my arm in it's socket, so I'll hold back on the hug."

Halt attempted what passed for a smile from the Ranger, "Smart man," then, softer he added, "take care Marek."

Strider didn't hold back, and Halt was startled as she embraced him, "Thanks Halt." Halt returned the brief hug timidly.

"I suppose this means your no longer a thief?" Cedric asked, and Strider smiled wickedly, a devious glint in her tawny colored eyes.

"It just means I'm no longer a careless thief." She informed him, gripping him in a hug. He smiled, Cedric and Strider had gotten along better after the battle, and they spent a good amount of time socializing, their apprentices had even become close friends.

* * *

Halt had been keeping a close eye on Rowan, he'd seen the boy fight in the battle with the Cult fiercely, and he could see a bravery growing in him that was hard to come by. With a long discussion between Cedric and Arald, they came to a decision, and offered Rowan a place as Halt's apprentice.

"Me? A Ranger?" Rowan had been mystified, in the short time spent in Faladore he'd learned he could make a sword seem just as useless as a plank of wood. He'd also come to find that the Ranger's thought to be dark magicians and sorcerers were simply human, and he'd begun to admire them secretly. After an equally long talk with his brother Cedric, he agreed, still feeling somewhat unsure about the decision. The Baron and Cedric had both agreed that he'd proved his worth and loyalty to Araluen. Halt had mentioned vaguely to Cedric that Rowan's former skills as a thief may come in handy if he trained to become a Ranger.

In the end, Rowan felt as though he'd been tricked into it. Gilan talked about being a Ranger with him for awhile like it was a glorious and invigorating path to walk. How could Rowan refuse this? He'd redeemed himself valiantly in the short time spent in the village, and now an opportunity arose. From what he understood, being a Ranger was a simple task, you wore a cloak used a bow, and assumed the position of the coyest, most grim person in Araluen. It seemed like a walk in the park compared to the tough life of a knight.

If only he knew how wrong he was.

* * *

The journey back to Redmont was easy going, and the weather was cooperative as clouds passed overhead. The small group of warriors was tucked away into the warmth of the castle snugly when the first rains of the day fell. Gilan and the knights of Meric planned to set out for home the following day, and Gilan stayed with Halt and Rowan, enjoying the company of his comrades.

* * *

The scent of coffee wafted from the small cabin's combined kitchen area caused Gilan to gravitate indoors, he'd just finished grooming Blaze, and Rowan was pulling on a clean tunic as he made his way back from the river. His hair was still damp with water, tousled and shaggy looking from his quick bath.

"There's nothing like the feel of a clean shirt against clean skin," the newly named apprentice told Gilan as he stepped onto the verandah. Gilan smiled, he knew the feeling.

"It's almost as good as a fresh cup of Halt's richest coffee," Gilan commented.

Rowan frowned, "Coffee? What's that like?"

Gilan raised his eyebrows in shock, "You've never had coffee?"

Rowan shook his head, "No."

Gilan was shaking his head in disbelief, "It's a good thing your Halt's apprentice then, I'm fairly certain he can fix you soon enough." Gilan led the way into the cabin, "Never had coffee, that's a crime for certain!"

Gilan and Rowan quickly became good friends, and Halt kept his new apprentice hard at work with a plethora of chores. Soon after Gilan left Rowan began to learn how to use a recurve bow, finding he was a poor shot to begin with. Halt informed him about the importance of practice, Rowan was rewarded with aching arm and back muscles. He fell easily into the routine of housework and long hours of practice. The mapping lessons were easier, he had a hand for drawing and he managed with less difficulty.

Through his learning of what role Ranger's really play in the Kingdom of Araluen he found that he was truly fascinated by their duties, and he began to feel like he truly could do some good. Gilan was right about the coffee, and Rowan quickly found the aromatic scent and delicious taste to be quite addictive.

Halt's favorite taunt at Rowan was the apprentice's sleeping habits. "If you practiced as much as you slept you'd be hitting your marks blindfolded." Rowan couldn't object to this, he did favor sleeping in too much.

With Halt to guide him along, his training began to progress at a slow and steady rate. Halt planned to make a Ranger out of Rowan, and he kept to it.

* * *

Fell signed a temporary alliance with the Baron of Redmont, and after several meetings with Arald the Shadows' leader was convinced into signing an official alliance with the King. The forces of the Cult of Day in Gallica were muddling together, the army would march to meet Araluen head on in only a few months time. The Shadows planned to take part in the battle against their mortal enemies, whether Araluen and the Shadows were allied or not was a moot point.

In order for the King's treaty to be official, Fell would have to travel to Castle Araluen to sign it himself, something he'd been loathing since he'd been informed of the treaty. The treaty stated that the Shadows, if any single member stepped out of line, would be punished by the law of the Kingdom. Fell thought that was fair enough, as long as his men could behave.

"The Shadows will be fine Fell." Strider told him one night as they lay under the stairs, stretched out side by side on a slate grey slab or rock adjacent to the river. The moon shined down on them, star gazing had been something they'd done often together. Even rogues enjoyed the beauty of the night, and the star streaked sky was a sight to be hold. The air was light and cool, and both Shadows' had their hands laced together behind their heads and booted feet crossed at the ankle.

"How can you be so sure, we're rogues Strider. Following rules, obeying the laws, I see only one end to this, chaos."

Strider sighed, "Your such a pessimist sometimes, Fell. The Shadows might be a bunch of low lives, murderers, thieves, pick pockets, but most of us have some decency. We have you to lead us after all."

Fell turned to steel a look at his Deputy, she looked even paler in the moonlight, a light scar on her right temple shone out faintly against her skin. Her dark hair had fallen into a randomly streaked pile of straight locks. Strider's fiery gaze of tawny colored eyes was riveted on the sky above them.

"And I have you to help me."

Strider turned to look at him, she smirked, a wicked glint entered her eyes. "Unfortunately, yes."

Fell smiled, his face lighting up, "Then you'll go with me to see the King?"

"I'll hold your hand while you sign the treaty if it helps." Strider turned her gaze back to the sky, and Fell did the same with one last glance at Strider. "You could always hold my hand now…" He'd adopted an alluring tone, and his green eyes were alight with laughter.

Strider rolled her eyes, "You're a piece of work Fell."

Fell's heart soared, the devious tone of voice from Strider was one he knew all too well. Strider was thankful for the dull shadows of the night that kept her blush from Fell's sight. He was charming, in an irritating kind of way, but none the less charming.

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**Please read and review! I'm still working on an Epilogue, but a sequel is undecided.**

**I know I never really spent a lot of time writing from Rowan's POV, but if this continues, we'll get to see more of this former thief and exactly what Halt is expecting of him.**

**Please read and review! **


	15. Chapter 15

**The last chapter... =( This was my first Ranger's Fanfic, and I'm sorry it's ending, I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for the reviews, please read and review some more, it's a writer's fuel to do what they do.**

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Castle Araluen was magnificent; it rose above the rolling green hills of the fief like a horse rearing in the sunlight. It dominated the landscape with its majestic beauty. The towers spiraled into the sky; the light tan stone gleamed in the dying light of the early sunset. Fell stood mounted with his Deputy and Halt, along with his apprentice, Rowan.

Halt nudged his sure footed steed forward, his followers trailing after the grizzled Ranger silently. They moved swiftly across the landscape as they made their way towards the castle.

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By the time night had fallen they were safely within the walls of the massive castle. Fell and his Deputy were to appear before the King in private, many of the King's Council had objected to the alliance with the rebels, and the King wished to meet without conflict.

As they stood in the outer room to the throne room, Fell paced. Strider watched him, her hazel eyes never betraying her emotions. She stood against the stone wall, waiting calmly as her leader fought off nerves. In truth, she was ready to jump right out of her skin she was so unease.

"Fell, he's not going to eat us." She told him quietly. He stopped pacing and turned to face her, his green eyes troubled.

"How can you be sure?"

Strider's mouth twitched with the slightest hint of a grin, "Do you hear yourself?"

Fell frowned; his shoulder slumped under his cloak. "I'm just nervous. I've never had to stand before royalty before. I mean, not like this"

Strider smiled, "Neither have I, now smooth your feathers you weather beaten crow, everything's going to be fine."

"How do you know?" Fell asked.

"I don't, but I'm not going to be pessimistic about this. Fell, the castle is not going to burst into flames randomly while you're speaking to the King."

"It doesn't have to burst into flames for this to end badly."

Strider rolled her eyes and put her hands on Fell's shoulders to shake him gently. His green eyes were pitiful as his Deputy looked him in the eyes and spoke to him softly.

"Anything short of a raging inferno is something you can handle," Fell opened his mouth to object but Strider silenced him with a sharp look, "you're a great leader Fell. It's fact, the Shadows would you straight to Hell if you asked them.

Fell looked utterly defeated, "I wouldn't ever ask that of anyone," he pointed out meekly.

Strider let him go with a smile and a sigh. "I know, you're too kind to do that to anyone."

The King's secretary came to fetch the Shadows soon after Fell had calmed himself. The man was short and rather plump, with thick black curls and level brown eyes. He was dressed in a fine tunic and hose, his boots were sensible enough. His nose was straight and proud; he held his chin high and carried himself with dignity.

His smile was welcoming and kind as he ushered Fell and Strider forth into the throne room. The throne room was massive, with a pitched ceiling and beautiful windows with colorful glass panes. Lit with what seemed to be a million candles mounted on brackets along the walls, the throne rooms' floor was made up of well polished marble and alternating diamonds of a pale black and faded white.

At the end of the room sat a tall well built man with broad shoulders and a head full of blonde hair and a full beard. His piercing green eyes were deep set under full brows; the King had a slightly crooked nose and a square jaw. In his full suit of well polished armor he was a warrior to be respected.

Fell and Strider came to stand before him, in perfect unison they both dropped to kneel before the King respectfully. Standing beside the King were two cloaked figures that Fell recognized as Halt and Crowley. The rest of the throne room was empty, dwarfing the few inhabitants greatly.

"You may rise." The King's voice was soft, but it carried to the Shadows clearly. They stood once more; Fell wincing as he disturbed the still healing wound in his side. In a fairly recent skirmish he'd reopened the wound, and it had yet to heal completely. His Deputy glanced at him and raised an eyebrow; he twitched a shoulder in the slightest indication of a shrug.

"It's an honor to finally meet you; I've heard wonders about the Shadows."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Fell replied smoothly.

The King's gaze switched to Strider, his green eyes twinkled. To Fell he said, "I understand that you are the leader of the Shadows, and this is your mistress," Fell blushed crimson under his light tan; Strider choked back a un-lady like retort. For a moment the King looked lost.

"I'm afraid your mistaken Your Majesty, Strider is nothing more than a loyal friend and trusted Deputy."

King Duncan recovered quickly, "My apologies, I had heard that there was a female warrior among your ranks, I just didn't know I'd get a chance to meet her."

_Great, so much for a good first impression, _Strider thought as the King continued, she almost missed what he said next.

"I'd like you to stay awhile to meet my council, if it's not too much trouble."

"We'd be delighted Your Majesty," Fell said to Strider's dismay. She hid her displeasure behind a smile as they were led from the throne room.

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They met with the King's Royal Council in a large meeting room, where the many noblemen and their wives were already seated. At the large rectangular table Strider counted at least fifteen noblemen who would in time become Royal pains for her. Many of them frowned once they learned that she was not Fell's lover but instead his Deputy.

Strider could hear them whisper about her, she watched as they dodged her glares and glances. She was placed next to a broad shouldered Knight, who had no wife to speak of. He was light hearted, humorous and well mannered. For all he was young, he was civilized. Fell was on her other side, though he spent most of his time caught up in conversation with the council.

"I'm Horace, I don't think I caught your name," the Knight beside her said. Strider gave him a look, and liking what she saw she smiled, her hazel eyes were hard with resentment.

"You can call me Strider," she replied and he nodded. Strider took a sip of wine from her glass; she was determined to ignore the hateful looks shot in her direction. It seemed as if no one approved of her. That was fine, she was used to it, and female warriors were often regarded that way.

"I've never met a woman fighter before," Horace told her.

Strider cocked an eyebrow at him, "I've never met a knight who was still wet behind the ears."

Horace looked almost hurt, "Ouch, it bites."

"It carries dagger too, so tread lightly," Strider retorted sharply, Horace couldn't contain a chuckle.

"So what's it like?"

"Carrying daggers? It's pretty simple, you just stick one in your boot and hope you don't trip."

Horace grinned, "I mean what it like is to be a lady warrior."

Strider shrugged, "What's it like being a male warrior?"

"It's fairly tiring, but rewarding."

"Being a lady warrior is exactly the same. Only people don't usually look at you and think that there's something wrong with you, and that you're off your rocker. Or insane. Everyone thinks you're impaired, oh yes, and that you're canoodling with your leader."

"If it makes you feel better, I don't disapprove of you. You're quite amusing."

Strider grimaced, "Thanks, that's one down, I've just got to win over an entire Kingdom."

"What's the Cult like?" Horace asked, curious.

"Like an itch you just can't scratch."

Horace nodded, he knew the feeling. "What do you know about their leader?"

"A lot. He's about 6'1", dark haired with blue eyes. Pretty well built, he's about in his late twenties, with a testy temper. And he hates his sister with a violent passion."

Horace frowned, "How d'you know that?"

"He tried to kill her recently."

"I had no idea; his sister must've been terrified." Horace took a swig of wine.

Strider grunted, "Mind you, I was a little loopy, I tumbled down a rock turf during the wonderful reunion."

Horace, mid sip, coughed and almost choked. Strider clapped him on the back until he caught his breath. He stared at her in shock. "Well that makes more sense," he gasped as he fought for air.

Strider raised an eyebrow, "Enlighten me."

"I heard about a Shadow being related to the leader, but I didn't think it was you."

"Thanks, I don't like my brother very much either."

Horace shrugged, "So you killed the previous leader…"

Strider nodded, "Rumors are nasty little buggers aren't they? What else do you know about me?"

Horace took a moment to gather his thoughts before he said quietly to Strider, "You killed the previous leader of the Cult in his palace, you're the psychotic sister of the Cult's current leader. You're said to be working for the Cult, and you're plotting to kill Fell."

Strider tilted her head to the side and frowned, "I hadn't heard that one."

Horace stared at her blankly, "You don't seem psychotic to me."

Strider shook her head, "That one is partly true, I'm starting to think a form of stupidity, or insanity runs in my family."

"How so?"

"My brother's a maniac, and the last time I checked, almost everyone at this table was giving me an I-think-she's-crazy glare." Luckily Strider had kept her voice down so on one else heard. "As for me being a lying and cheating back stabber that is plotting to kill her leader, that's a lie. I don't have the patience to try and kill my leader, and I'm loyal, despite what everyone thinks about me." Strider took a sip of wine and winced.

Horace frowned, "Are you okay?"

Strider rubbed her temples, "It's the wine, it's not watered down. I'm just not used to it."

Horace shrugged; there wasn't much you could do about that. Suddenly the table fell silent. The King had raised a hand for order; now that the meal was over they had matters to discuss among the council. He said a few words that Strider didn't catch as she worked hard to stifle a yawn. She resumed her attentive composure just as one of the King's advisors voiced an opinion, Fell answered question after question with practiced patience. Strider however was more reluctant to pay attention, a sharp remark caught her attention.

"And what of your Deputy? How can you be sure he's loyal? If were to make an alliance we'd prefer to know you hold a strong leadership over your men. From what I've heard, he's is the sibling of the Cult's leader."

Strider's mouth twitched and Fell stopped her rising comment with a stern look. Then, hoping his Deputy would keep quiet he addressed the nobleman.

"My Deputy has proven herself time and time again as loyal; she's never led me to believe that she'd be guilty of any treachery before."

The nobleman let out a snort, "A woman, as your Deputy? The Shadows sure are something, who else is among your ranks? Children? Puppies?"

"Just what are you implying? That as a woman, Strider's not fit to fight?"

"Women are soft hearted, and they are not warriors. They are good for nothing more than raising children."

Strider's hazel eyes danced with defiant flames, she let out a loud sneeze. "I'm sorry, I seem to be allergic to false assumptions."

Fell gave Strider a look that could've peeled paint, she ignored him, but took his warning into consideration.

"With all do respect, Strider is a valuable fighter and as skilled as the rest of us. She's worked as hard, if not harder to prove herself, time and time again."

The nobleman, Murray he was called, refused to come off it. "Then the Shadows are a weak force for sure. Agreeing to an alliance with the likes of you would be suicide. We'd be protecting you as well as ourselves, not to mention the possible spy amongst your ranks."

Strider leveled her gaze with Murray, hazel eyes blazing. Her tone was icy and Horace half expected to see ice in the air her. "Associating with my brother is particularly difficult when he's hell bent on hacking my head from my shoulders."

Murray snorted in disgust, "Even if you aren't plotting with the enemy, I hardly think bedding with your leader makes you worthy to be his Deputy."

The remark, offensive as it was, was a true opinion of many of the King's Council. Lady warriors, uncommon across Araluen and the neighboring Kingdom's were rare as a three legged man. In many cases they were regarded as nothing but bedmates to their leaders and comrades. Fell considered that maybe the wine had gotten to Murray, and kept the shear anger out of his voice. "With all do respect, Sir Murray, there is no relationship between my Deputy and I. She's not my Deputy because of any relationships with anyone among the Shadows, Strider might be happily betrothed for all I know of her personal life."

Fell's gaze locked with Murray's, then spread to sweep over anyone else at the table, daring them to challenge him. His tone turned solemn as he said, "Every now and then you find a rare person with defiant dedication, an errant mindset, and an uncanny ability to drag the last bit of kick out of anyone's gallop. It's good to look over your shoulder and know that as as the days drag on there is someone who will always be there by your side to lead on, even when you're gone. I think that's reason enough to justify Strider's place as my Deputy."

Strider smothered her surprise, she couldn't believe her ears. Part of her wanted to kick Fell while the other wanted to hug him for such a high compliment. Murray on the other hand didn't look the slightest bit soothed, he said something wry that Strider didn't catch as she resumed her composure.

Fell kept his face clear of emotion, his Deputy tapped his shoulder and whispered something to him softly, he then turned to look at the King, "If Your Majesty would allow it, and I'd like to prove something to Sir Murray through hand to hand combat. It's only natural that you'd all be skeptical of the Shadows abilities, we're outsiders after all."

The King nodded, his green eyes showing his approval, though he might be confident that an alliance would be worth it he had to let the Shadows prove it to his Council. Murray looked smug as he awaited the challenge.

"Murray, a challenge-"

"I accept," he said instantly, "I'll fight you," The leader of the Shadows nudged his Deputy as Murray finished.

"Unfortunately," Strider said, hazel eyes dancing wickedly, "Fell's still recovering from a stab wound to his side. As his Deputy, I'll be taking up the challenge."

"So be it." Murray said rising from his chair as the council began to break up and head to the fighting court. Halt and Crowley caught up with Fell and Strider easily.

"I can't say this will go well," Crowley told them, "Murray's a senior knight, and he's almost a foot taller than you, Strider."

Strider shrugged, "I've got a plan."

Halt cocked an eyebrow, "Care to share it?"

"Yes, my plan is to think of a plan."

"How many glasses of wine did you have?" Fell wanted to know after Strider's reply.

"I lost count after about six," Strider informed him in a sardonic voice as she stumbled a few paces. She smirked and clapped Fell on the shoulder, "Fell, I got this. If I lose what does he gain? He gets to brag he beat a girl, whoop-de-doo, however if I beat him fair and square the King's Council gets to see just what kind of rough and tumble fighters the Shadows are. They'd be impressed if one of their warriors gets the snot knocked out of them by a girl. The knife cuts two ways."

Fell sighed, "It does, but if he wins the King's Council is going to think that the Shadows are a group of stumbling drunken women, I don't like that edge."

Strider was smiling wickedly as she stretched her arms, "You don't have to like it, you just have to stand on the side lines and look pretty. And I'm not drunk Fell, I can handle a few glasses of wine."

Horace fell in line with the four cloaked figures quietly. Crowley went to introduce the burly knight. Horace stopped him, with an apologetic look, "We've already met, and I think that you should forfeit, Strider."

Strider looked at him levelly, her striking hazel eyes dancing, "Why's that?"

"No offence, but Murray's a real piece of work. It would look bad if you got hurt while fighting him-"

"What makes you think I'm going to get hurt? No offence Horace, but I've fought my share of battles, I can catch punches and throw 'em back."

Fell nodded, "Kicks too, and insults." Then he sighed, "You're not doing this just because he insulted you, are you?"

Strider shrugged, "Not exactly, but I think it's going to put a bit of vehemence in the fight."

They arrived at the practice yard as nobles of the King's council filed in and found benches to be seated at as they watched. The night air was thin and cool, a light fall breeze buffeted the crowd lightly. The Training yard was dirt packed as tight as a rock with a thin layer of dust coating the top. The benches on either side of the rectangle dueling space were half full as Strider found a place she could conveniently stretch.

Strider settled onto a bench as she tugged off her cloak and arm guards. Both Fell and herself had arrived in full Shadow uniform with their cleanest tunics and neatest composure. Strider's boots came off as well, and she tucked them close to the bench as she stood. She frowned for a moment, thinking hard, then unclasped her belt and let her knee length over tunic free of its restraint before tugging it over her head.

"I don't want to get my blood on this," She told Fell with a grin as she placed her tunic on the bench. Standing in trousers and a plain white short sleeved shirt she looked as slight as ever. Strider cracked her knuckles, neck and back all in turn, and continued to stretch while the Ranger's, Fell and Horace stood close by. Across one arm was a thin wrap of bandages, covering the healing scars of a close encounter with jagged river rocks.

The injury was a minor one, the bandages were more for the purpose of healing the grotesque scars than healing an open wound.

Strider's hazel eyes darkened as she watched Murray across the rectangle. He had shed much of his clothing as well and was stretching in a pair light tanned breeches. Strider took the moment to get a better look at her foe. He was tall, roughly 6'2", with a solidly muscular frame and broad shoulder. His nose was slightly crooked and his chin was set stubbornly, his short cropped blonde hair accented his fair blue eyes.

"You can still quit now," Horace reminded her. She smiled up at him, her hazel eyes were like a river that had frozen over as she met the knight's level gaze.

"Win or lose, I'm going to learn something here. I may as well not pass the chance up. I'd like to know just how well trained you Araluens are these days."

Strider was stretched out on the dusty ground, leaning forward to touch the toes on her left foot. Muscles in her back, legs, thighs and arms all tightened briefly before loosening. She was repeating the same exercise with her left arm and right foot when Fell crouched beside her and spoke softly to her.

"You can quit you know, I don't care if you don't want to go through with this."

"I'm not going to defeat the purpose of out rightly insulting a nobleman because you think I'm going to break a leg. Fell, I've fought worse."

Fell sighed, "Not after four glasses of wine."

Strider smirked, but the gesture never reached her eyes. "It was six, and what fun would it be if I was completely sober?"

"Completely safe fun." He said, but didn't try to convince his Deputy to give up the fight anymore; he pulled her gently to her feet instead. "Don't let him break you." He said to her quietly before she went to stand across from Murray in the sparing ring out lined it vibrant white chalk. The sky ahead was clear and thickly speckled with stars; a full moon was beaming overhead. Apart from the dull torchlight the calming moonlight illuminating the sparring grounds. A line split the rectangle in two, and both fighters lined up to face one another.

The difference in size and girth was all too obvious. Murray stood half a head taller than Strider, his arms were twice as thick and he was noticeable more muscular than the girl. What many people found to be so misleading about the slim Strider was her build. As slight as she was, Strider was wiry, and many people overlooked the lean muscles and sinews concealed within her shapely frame.

The King had each fighter shake hands before he nodded to them from the side of the sparring square. "You may begin."

The ground felt cold beneath Strider's feet, she felt her blood warm as in began to race beneath her skin. She felt the many gazes of the King's Council watching her; she planned to give them a show to remember. The adrenaline pounded in her veins, she loved the familiar alertness that came before a fight.

Both Strider and Murray moved back from the line of scrimmage after the King declared a start. It was to be one straight forward match. The first to grapple the other into submission or render the other incapable of continuing the fight would be declared the winner.

Murray and Strider eyed one another coolly. Strider had slid into a half crouch, balancing her weight lightly on the balls of her feet. He came at her first, just as balanced and prepared to strike. She dodged his first punch, aimed at her head. She ducked under his arm and snatched hold of his wrist with a firm grip, planted her left foot as she did so and snapped her right foot out in a sharp kick to his exposed side.

He let out a grunt of pain as he lost his balance, Strider attempted to send him sprawling over her hip. Murray broke her hold on his wrist and countered her neatly, regaining his balance and knocking her feet out from under her.

Strider hit the ground with a loud thud, she smacked the ground and rolled to her feet, dust clinging to her once white shirt. Murray swept forward with a series of well aimed punched and kicks. Strider dodged a punch and a kick nimbly before taking a devastatingly powerful left punch to her jaw. The blow sent her sprawling to the ground, on the side lines Fell flinched. He watched his Deputy with a smothered look of concern clouding his features.

Strider was back on her feet in an instant, a bruise already beginning to form on the left side of her face.

"She could've blocked that," Halt murmured softly.

Fell nodded, "She hesitated," he seemed distracted, as if he was thinking hard about something. "I think she meant to take a hit, just to see how much damage a hit could do. At least, that's what I hope. Maybe it really is the wine..."

Murray lunged for Strider, his thick hands preparing to grapple her, but she was prepared for this, she slid out of his would be choke hold with a lithe movement. She drew her right leg out and caught Murray's left knee with a hard kick. He stumbled and almost fell before launching himself at Strider once more. This time he managed to get a grip on Strider's shoulders and neck, with his superior strength a throw wouldn't be far off, and Strider worked desperately against his arms. She stepped towards him, into his hold she raised a foot and slammed into the back of his knee while pressing weight on his neck and shoulders.

Murray's right knee buckled forward, his weight as well as Strider's sent him smashing into the dirt with enough force to drive the wind from the massive knight. Strider rolled away from him as they hit the ground, she staggered to her feet wincing just in time for Murray to heave himself to his feet as well. The knight wasted no time, he advanced rapidly, and Strider ducked and dodged a flurry of kicks and punches, she took a heavy handed fist to her ribs before she could retaliate.

Murray's greatest strength was the devastatingly power behind each attack, Strider could slip from he grasp like a ease, but it would take one hit to send her sprawling. Like a double edged knife, Strider found ways to turn this against him. Being more agile and nimble was second nature for her. Her counter strikes were usually precise and ineffective, at first. Strider's patience served her well as she landed several hits on Murray's weakening right knee. He was beginning to limp.

Crowley noticed and smiled, "Interesting strategy."

Fell shrugged, "Isn't it? It's always puzzled me, the way she can knock a knight double her size off his feet, I had to look closer to realize just what she was doing."

Halt watched Strider carefully, she moved swiftly, one movement leading to the next in a smooth transition. He was reminded faintly of an intricate dance.

Suddenly Murray found an upper hand; he grappled with Strider once more, this time finding an advantage as he crippled his opponent to the ground. Fell stiffened as his Deputy's rapid movements were slowed when Murray locked one arm behind her back. A cut had opened above one arched eyebrow, a trickle of blood found its way into her eyes to blind her. She managed to get a knee free and drag it into the soft belly of her opponent. He gasped as Strider slipped from his grip and to her feet.

Strider drew a sleeve of her tunic across her face, wiping the blood from her eyes, Murray was already on his feet again when she could see again. He started to rush her again, but she stopped him dead in his tracks. Grim faced, Strider snapped her right foot out in a high kick, and in a blur of movement she slammed the shin of her foot against Murray's temple. The knight was too startled to block the sudden flurry of movement.

Strider watched as Murray's eyes rolled back into his head, his body went limp and he collapsed. He fell to the floor and lie very still as the King crouched beside him. Strider suppressed a shudder as pain lanced through her right leg, in her rushed assault she'd hit her opponent with the wrong part of her foot, the hit however was just as effective.

"He's unconscious," The King said after a moment, he looked up at the sweat drenched and still panting girl before him and smiled, his face lighting up like the sun. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Strider said, grinning weakly she managed to make her way back to where Fell and the Ranger's and a shocked Horace were waiting. The burly knight couldn't stop himself as Strider settled back onto the bench.

"How are you that fast?" He asked, and Strider shrugged. If the Ranger's or Fell were impressed they hid it well.

"My mentor always said 'Find your own strengths in your opponent's weaknesses'. Since most of my opponents are twice my size just in muscle, I learned how to be precise, and fast."

Horace was shaking his head, "I don't believe it."

"I'm serious; my mentor was the most annoying little monkey man ever. I couldn't spend more than ten minutes near him without wanting to cheerfully choke him for all his silly proverbs."

Strider grinned up at Horace as Fell took a seat next to his Deputy. He tugged a handkerchief free of his belt and passed it to her, "You're still bleeding," he told her as he gestured to the cut above her eye. She shrugged and wiped the blood away from the cut and shyly accepted a canteen of water from Fell.

Winning the fight had its side effects; Strider's side had a constant dull ache due to several bruised ribs. She could feel the sting of bruises across her shoulders and arms, her jaw ached at from the punch she'd managed to catch so efficiently. She was happy that the King called an end to the Council's interrogation of the Shadows for the night once the fight was over. Murray had come to, and they shook hands before the Shadows were led away by the Rangers.

Fell's dislike of castle's and royalty had been apparent, and the offer to stay at the palace politely declined. Instead of camping on a hillside Crowley welcomed the Shadows to his cabin for the night, as cramped as it was they'd been staying since they'd arrived in the main fief of Araluen. Rowan was already there, he'd stayed behind to practice his archery and tend to his gelding, Flint. The horse was named for his coat, a solid gray with the slightest tint of black to it with a flowing black mane to match.

Long after everyone else had fallen asleep Strider lay awake, thoughts shifting through her mind. Every time she pushed a thought away it came back to her like a feather adrift in the wind. It was seemingly impossible to banish the single thought from her mind, lately it was a ghost that haunted her. She stole a glance at Fell, and let the thought trickle into her mind like cold water. He was covered with blankets to his shoulders, laying on his back, his head leaning on one shoulder. The fierce green fire of his eyes was absent, making him look calm and tranquil. _Just who am I to him?_ she asked herself, once more Strider found she didn't want to know the answer. _I'm his Deputy, nothing more, he knows it, and I know it. We'd be nothing but a bad romance, and very cross couple. _She turned her back to her leader and closed her eyes, _Wouldn't it be worth the try?_

_**

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**I had mixed feeling about the ending, and the fight between Strider and Murray. I wasn't sure I wanted Strider to win, but I think it's only fair. She earned it through long years of training and battling, surely she could take down a complacent knight? See what I mean? I'm very fickle about this...**

**So now we know Strider's hate of noblemen\noblewomen. We get to see at the end there a little bit of a dramatic encounter about Strider's deeper feelings about Fell. Someone asked me about there different ages... Fell-20 Strider-18. Then they asked why they were so young, lolz, it's because of the Shadows dwindling forces. Life's short for them.**

**Aww, it's all done now. Sort of. I have written a sort of epilogue that sums up the futures of the characters, war, and stuff like that. I left room for a sequel, because I have a particular liking for my characters at this point. I just haven't decided if a sequel would be worth it. Any thoughts? **

**Please read and review! Reviews make the world go round, or well sort of. I think gravity does that actually, but you get the jest. =_P _**

**_Sequel or not? _**

**_Please let me know, I don't want to write one out if no one's going to read it. _;)**


	16. Epilogue!

**EPILOGUE! THANKS FOR REVIEWING!**

**So this is the beginning of the sequel to The Shadows of the South. This is basically what's typically going on now that the Shadows and Araluen have been allied. This describes a typical battle, along with a bit of foreshadowing for the newest installment of the plot...**

**Please read and review, I know that this is long and what not but it's giving you a good idea of what the sequel will be about, and what's happened in between The Shadows of the South and the coming sequel. Part 2 of this epilogue will be shorter, I promise. =]**

* * *

Rain pelted down from the swollen black clouds overhead, blotting out the night sky. A crack of thunder roared and rolled over the forest, the trees rattled and shook in the breeze. Along a heavily used dirt path a long legged horse charged, hooves flying over the sodden ground with dire urgency. A sole figure was hunched in the saddle, clinging on to the devoted steed with all their strength. A cloak obscured their features as the sweat soaked gelding burst free of the trees. Behind them roared the pounding of many horses, they were being pursued with a force that would easily overtake them if they slowed. Fighting wasn't an option, and dying from the stroke of a sword was not what the cloaked rider had in mind as a fitting end.

"Just a little further, Whiplash!" The rider's words were stripped away by the wind, but the horse seemed to have heard enough.

The dark horse tossed its head as if to agree to its master's soothing words. Ahead the trees thinned, horse and rider whisked out into open air. A howling gust of wind sent rain blurring into the rider's eyes. Through an obscured squint they could see the flat ground that was stretched out ahead of them. A dark blob in the distance was the farthest edge of the forest. A river cut its way across the path that awaited the horse and their rider. The water swished along its bank like black obsidian streaked with splotchy white light.

The banks were flooded, and a wave of white washed water reared above the ground and gushed around the gnarled roots of the nearest trees. The rider had no chance to slow their horse as a crossbow bolt buried itself in the horse's lower flank. Whiplash's gallop faltered as pain lanced through the beasts' hind leg. Slipping sideways on the muddy turf the horse lost its footing as its hind leg gave out, the horse toppled to the floor, still moving at a gallop the horse threw his rider.

The cloaked figure slammed into the ground with a thud, their feet had been ripped free of the stirrups as they were flung out of the saddle. They lay unmoving on the muddy bank, motionless in pain. From the forest came a small party of armed men on horseback, they rode towards the fallen rider without hesitation.

From their place on the bank the injured rider could count the legs of at least six mounts. That meant there were at least six mounted men coming for them. Hastily they tried to move, sending a searing line of pain through them. The approaching hoof beats stopped and the rain kept pounding down. The lone figure glimpsed their steed as the beast limped along the bank, one hoof never touching the ground.

The shuffle of weapons and saddles alerted the cloaked figure that they were close. Their second attempt to drag themselves to their feet was a little more successful, and the sodden figure was rising slowly to their feet when rough hands grabbed them.

"On your feet!" someone ordered briskly, hoisting the fallen rider to their feet. The burly man stripped back the cowl of the figure's cloak; beneath the smudges of mud and the streaks of water drenched hair was the face of a young woman. She struggled against the hand that found its way around one of her arms. A knife prickled her side and she fell still, glaring with silent contempt at her captures.

The leader made his way forward to stare at his prisoner, his short cropped hair was dark with rain and plastered against a tan forehead. He smiled, white teeth flashing brightly against his sodden black beard.

"Well well, if it isn't the infamous Deputy of the Shadows."

Strider smothered the emotion off her face until she felt like stone. "I don't know who you're talking about."

The man only widened his infuriating smile at Strider as lightning lit up the sky around them. "You're not fooling me, Strider."

"I've never once heard that name before," she snarled back at him defiantly.

A glint of dark light flared to life inside his eyes as he stepped forth and took hold of Strider's right wrist. He turned it over with a sharp movement, causing a grunt to escape from his captive. Without hesitation the Cult member drew a knife from his belt and slit the leather wrist guard lengthwise. Giving Strider a malicious look, he pulled away the ruined leather, holding Strider's hand with crippling strength. He tapped below her wrist with the tip of the knife none too gently, drawing the attention of the soldiers nearest them to the elegantly etched tattoo there. Even in the faltering light of the frantic lightning with the rain pouring over her wrist it was all too easy to see what was there, printed neatly just below her wrist. The unmistakable image of a snarling wolf stood out against her skin. She knew as well as he just what the symbol meant. The dark ink that stood out against her skin proved who she was better than an outright confession.

A triumphant gleam in the Cult members eyes made Strider want to cheerfully choke him. "Only Fell's Deputy has a mark such as this," he tapped her wrist again with the knife, this time applying enough pressure to barely nick the skin. Strider winced as the razor sharp edge left a line of fire across her wrist, drops of scarlet rain formed around the thin cut as rain fell on Strider's wrist.

"I think it's safe to say that you're a prisoner worth keeping."

With a nod to one of his comrades the burly man moved back to his mount while Strider was bound and gagged. Strider's horse was retrieved; though the horse was limping they collected his reins and led him along. They led Strider along the same way, tethered beside her injured mount. She walked along side her lame horse as her captors led her off into the night. She could feel bruises across her shoulders from where she'd hit the ground, along with the stinging ache of a few sprained ribs. _At least I've given him a fair enough chance._

Warily she cast a tear glinted gaze over one shoulder to the forest that was fading away from them on the far side of the swamped river bank. Through the slanting rain Strider gazed steadily at someone she hoped was far away.

_Keep running, Glade._

_

* * *

  
_

Glade's weary legs moved despite the wound across one thigh and his lopsided gait. He didn't know where his mentor was, nor if she was even alive. The last time he'd seen her she'd been riding off into the storm, a troop of Cult barreling after her. The instant the hoof beats had faded into the howling wind Glade had began to run. The small party of Shadows they'd been with was nothing more than a few stragglers now, all lost in the tangle of trees and the roar of the storm. Thinking back to it now, Glade couldn't believe it.

They'd been sent out on a mission by their leader Fell who commanded the rebels called the Shadows. Recently allied with the Kingdom of Araluen they were participating in an attempt to win back a Fort belonging to Araluen. Strider had been placed in control of a small attack party of roughly a dozen Shadows. Set on the edge of Meric Fief, the fort was easy enough to scout out. Taking it was another matter all together, if Strider had known what awaited them on the far side of the wooden barricade she would've turned back without a moment's hesitation.

The Cult had known all along about the Shadows that lay slinking in the brush of the woods around them. They'd set a trap fit for the unsuspecting, a trap that crippled the Shadows force, and sent them running for the hills in the dead of night. The dozen Shadows had been split, singled out by three or four mounted warriors at a time and dealt with easily. Glade was one of the few that had gotten away, and only so because of his mentor.

Tears stung his eyes, _I wish she was here, _he thought ruefully as he continued his trek through the thick undergrowth. Glade had been wounded, his trusty mount bombarded with cross bow quarries as they rode away. One of them had sunk into Glade's left thigh, searing through muscle and flesh in an instant. In the end as their pursuers closed in Strider had left Glade in the shelter of a large holly bush, rain spilling over him mercilessly as his mentor remounted her frantic steed.

"I'll be fine," She promised him, "I'm a Shadow remember? We're as hard to catch as the night itself."

Glade wished what she'd said was true. Her last orders rang wildly in his mind as he shoved past a screen of brambles barricading his way. "Get as far away from here as you can. Stay off the trails, find someone you can trust and find Fell. He needs to know what's happened."

That's exactly what Glade was going to do, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

* * *

A guard gave Strider a rough shove into the cell that awaited her. They'd removed her bonds and gag before they left her to confinement thankfully, and Strider rubbed her wrists sorely where the heavy rope had cut into her skin. With three walls of nothing but sturdy rock and a set of iron bars for the forth, the cell was puny. Strider guessed if she that at her full height, with her hands stretched out above her head, she would be able to touch two corners of the dungeon's filthy cell with her finger and toe tips. Strider brushed aside the idea however; she was soaked to the bone and cold, not to mention a newly unprivileged prisoner. She didn't need icing on the cake she called her most unfortunate raid ever, yet.

The cell had one window that she noticed as the door of rusty bars clanged closed behind her. On the wall parallel to the iron bars set high in the stone just above the ground level was a small window. The bars that blocked the meager gap in the wall were in fairly well condition, without a speck of foul smelling rust on any of the bars. With a sinking feeling Strider realized that water would spill into the cell through the forever open window if the rain continued to pound down from the swelling clouds.

All this Strider took in with a swift look; her eyes coming to rest on a bulky shadow crouched in one corner. Most of the cell was shrouded in shadow, and her eyes had yet to adjust to the dim, dreary lighting. For a moment she thought it might simply be the trick of the light, but then two dark eyes caught her own hazel glare. The figure rose to its feet and slipped from the shadow and into the scarce firelight provided by a torch mounted in a bracket outside the cell. More shapes moved behind him, but none rose to their feet.

Strider took a defensive step back before she recognized the face beneath the mix of dirt and blood that masked the figures face. He wore a cloak, similar to Strider's own. He stood at least half a head taller than Strider, with oddly light blonde hair that set his blue eyes glittering. The features, although distinctive, were barely recognizable under the dirt and dried mud that clung to the figure. Despite his would-be handsome features, a scar ran parallel to the line of his jaw from his left ear to his chin. The wound was one dealt by a curved dirk and it deprived the warrior of much of his good looks and made it look as if he was always scowling. He was a rather lanky and almost gaunt man, but his appearance was deceiving. That's how most Shadows were, undeniable and infuriatingly deceitful in almost every aspect of their ominous lives.

"Strider?" he asked in disbelief.

"Scorn?" retorted Strider, and found that her eyes were adjusting better to the darkness and noticed more forms among the cell.

"Who else is here?" She asked, not sure she wanted to know. "How many of us did they get?"

Scorn's shoulders slumped, "Including you and me, there are six of us. What do we do now?"

Strider shrugged and found the driest place next to her comrades who sat lined up against one wall together. She took a quick moment to assess each Shadows health. A broken arm, a dislocated shoulder and a sword slash to one leg showed just how hard they'd fought. Each and every Shadow was bruised heavily, and each held minor scrapes and cuts that stung and ached. Strider bit her lip as she considered what to do. As the Deputy of the Shadows, she would essentially carry a particular amount of weight against the Shadows sworn enemies, the Cult of Day. Having captured someone involved in the string of the Shadows command, the Cult would be looking for a use for her, and her captured comrades.

That's what had Strider puzzled. _How did they know? _Strider was always careful when they planned an attack or raid of any sort, having a reception waiting for them was something that rubbed Strider the wrong way. Something wasn't right. There was nothing she could do about it now though, and she might as well sweep it aside for the moment.

_How do we escape? _The question seethed through Strider's mind as she deftly ran her fingers through her hair. It had lengthened and she reminded herself to find the time to shorten it again soon, if she ever got the chance. _They aren't trying to maim or kill us yet, so we might be of some use to them._

"Maybe they'll keep us as hostages," Offered Claw, a Shadow with a claw shaped scar on one cheek. He was darker tanned than the rest, standing at an average height for a man in his early thirties. He had the black eyes and hair of a desert nomad, with a hooked nose and a thick mane of hair that he kept tied back in a taut pony tail.

Strider had thought about that as well, the Cult had never taken hostages before, but now that they were preparing to got to war against all of Araluen along with the Shadows, they might change their tactics. Strider also didn't think that they would be kept alive very much longer if they were hostages, what use could they be to the Cult? The fact that the Cult's barbaric leader was Strider's blood brother, and that he had made it very clear that he intended to kill her the next chance he got didn't make things any easier.

"I don't think they'll keep us alive very much longer, to be honest." Strider voiced her opinion, gazing evenly at each of her comrades in turn. "Unless they're planning to try to get a ransom for the lot of us, we won't really appeal much to them, will we?"

"No, we won't," Scorn said from his place beside her, "So what should we do? Give them hell?"

Strider smiled wickedly, but the gesture never reached her defiant eyes. "We're going to do that anyway." She forced a look of hope onto her face, "On the upside, we might still be saved before they decide to torture us to death, or just kill us modestly."

Claw cocked an eyebrow, "Enlighten me."

Scorn had always been a quick thinker, and he proved his wit now. "Six of us have yet to be caught; they might still be out there, in the forest. By now they'll have gone off for help."

Jag let out a snort of contempt, "Or they're dead."

Strider felt a pang of sadness. Her own apprentice was out there in the dark swirling stormy night, wounded and alone. The thought of him being dead made Strider want to forget the world. But as the Deputy of the Shadows, she swore against it.

* * *

Gilan kept Blaze on the shallow sloping path with ease. The bay tossed its head as mud stuck to his hooves with every step. Gilan, hunched over the back of the horse made a silent promise to give the horse an extra bay of hay that night for his dedication. The storm was beginning to let up, and Gilan felt the veil of misery from being soaked begin to lift. The thought of his cabin, warm and welcoming brought a smile to his face. He wanted nothing more than a hot meal and a warm bed after a long day.

Suddenly Blaze's ears flicked to the trees bordering the path on Gilan's right side. The Ranger could hear something rustling in the bushes, and then from the undergrowth sprang a mottled shape. The figure stopped in front of Blaze as the bay slowed his trot to stare accusingly at the shape before him.

Gilan had his bow half drawn at the slight figure in the blink of an eye. A flash of lightning illuminated the mud smudged and thorn scratched face of someone oddly familiar to Gilan.

"Gilan!" The figure cried in a scarcely audible voice.

"Glade?!"

Gilan lowered his bow and slipped down quickly from Blaze's back, the horse stood stock still as his master swept forward to eye Glade critically. Shivers racked through Glade's body and his vision blurred with sudden tears, everything seemed to land on his shoulders in a rush. He felt the world swirling around him as he fell, a stab of pain rearing up inside his left leg.

Gilan caught the apprentice easily. Concern was flickering in the Ranger's eyes. He knew Glade from a previous battle fought in Redmont; the boy was Strider's apprentice, someone that Gilan had fought alongside against a force of Cult not long ago. The young Ranger had known about the raid that the Shadows would be leading on the small fort. Finding Glade in his current state of shock and fearful dread wasn't good, and Gilan felt a stone form in his stomach. He knew that Strider had been leading the attack as well.

The rough bandage on Glade's thigh drew Gilan's attention immediately. He took a moment to inspect the wound before remounting Blaze, pulling Glade into the saddle with him. The Ranger's cabin wasn't far off, and now he nudged Blaze forward into a steady lope that was somewhere between a casual gallop and a rapid canter. Riding with one arm firmly around Glade was difficult, and the familiar sight of the cabin nestled under the storm battered trees dragged a sigh of relief from the Ranger.

Reluctantly, Gilan left Blaze by the lean to, giving him the order to stay while he moved Glade into the cabin. The apprentice was half a head short than Gilan and he was slighter in build than the Ranger. Levering him on one shoulder wasn't a difficult task, trying to move him without jostling his wounded leg was another thing completely. Gilan's cabin was lit by a smoldering fire in the hearth, and the kitchen living and dining room was warm, compared to the biting chill of the frigid rain. The oak table and chairs, the rug and rocking chairs were all neat and tidy, just like Gilan had left them. Two doors led off into separate rooms of the cabin, but both were closed.

Glade let out a choked grunt of pain as Gilan lowered him onto the flooring of the cabin. The Ranger didn't think that Glade would be able to sit upright in a chair in his current injured state. He had doubts about settling Glade onto the extra bed in his cabin, it was hard to sleep well when you were soaking wet. The floor would do for now he decided and left Glade alone for a moment while he went in search of blankets and a pot of healing salve and bandages.

He found them quickly and returned to see a feverish looking Glade staring up at him with a petrified look in his eyes. Gilan found a place to kneel beside Glade and rolled one blanket into a ball and slipped it under Glade's head. The Shadow fidgeted fitfully until Gilan calmed him with a soothing voice.

"It's all right. You're going to be fine, the wound isn't deep."

Glade was shaking his head and trying to stay awake, the surprise attack was still fresh in his mind and he felt exhaustion threatening to close his eyes. His voice was feebler than he'd wanted it to be, a harsh effect of being cold, wounded, and frightened out of his wits. "It's not me I'm worried about."

Gilan looked up at Glade sharply, his hands continuing to work deftly at the water drenched bandages around Glade's left leg. Gilan eyed Glade evenly, a question brimming in his eyes. "Who exactly are you worried about?"

It was as if someone opened the flood gates, and Glade heard himself reciting the night in just a blur of words as Gilan listened intently, still tending to Glade's wounds. Finally the apprentice fell silent. Gilan's face was shadowed with thought as he took what Glade had told him into consideration. Glade had only left out one detail.

"Where's Strider?" Gilan asked, but he already suspected the answer.

"I-I don't know. She ran off so I could get away, they followed her. I…" Glade paused and an encouraging nod from Gilan nudged him to go on. "I think she was caught." Even though Glade hadn't seen his mentor's capture he found it only made sense. He'd known Strider long enough to know that when one Shadow fell, they all did. It was one of his first lessons under her wing. _Never leave and let them fall behind, you fight together and you fall together. _Glade was beginning to think that he'd made the wrong choice leaving his mentor behind.

"I'm sure she's fine," Gilan said, resting a hand on Glade's shoulder. The young Ranger wished he could believe it. Gilan shared Glade's view of Strider, he might not be a Shadow but he didn't have to look far to see the loyalty that bound Strider to the Shadows and her leader. He had always got the vague impression that as defiant as Strider was, she'd take full responsibility for something similar to the battle. Gilan knew in Strider's place, he'd be blaming himself for the destruction scattering and capturing of her force.

Glade sat up, wincing as he did so. "I've got to find Fell, he needs to know. He'll want to do something about this."

"Fell's in Redmont, but you're right, he does need to know. In your condition, I don't exactly think its best that you venture out to meet him."

Glade looked stricken, and Gilan went on before Glade could object. "I'll tell the Baron of Meric, Fell will know soon enough. Until then, you need to rest."

Submissively, Glade nodded. "Alright."

Gilan helped Glade to his feet; he looked him over and eyed him critically for a moment. "I think I have some clothes that might fit you."

Glade ducked his head shyly, "That would be heavenly, if it's not too much trouble."

Gilan smiled, finding Glade's modest mannerisms similar to that of Fell, the Leader of the Shadows. The Ranger found clean clothes for Glade and tended to Blaze. He fed and watered the horse, giving him a bit of time to rest before he rode out to the castle. Once that was done he prepared a swift dinner for himself and Glade. The Shadow helped, limping along carefully as he placed two steaming cups of coffee on the round oak table.

They both ate ravenously and in a companionable silence. Gilan sipped his coffee, enjoying and savoring every sip. The rain was beginning to let up, but the night air was cold, something Gilan was finding highly discouraging for his midnight journey.

The Ranger pulled on his half dry cloak despite the discomfort lying ahead, he showed Glade to the spare room before he left. He made sure that Glade would be alright alone, and turned towards the door to leave.

"Gilan?" Glade said coyly.

Gilan turned to met Glade's gaze, "Yes?"

The Shadow smiled warmly, "Thanks, for everything."

* * *

The morning dawned bright and airy on Castle Redmont. Blazing rays of sunlight flooded over the castle, turning the reddish mound of rock that served as it's foundation to a smoldering pale orange. Inside the protective walls of the magnificent castle the main courtyard was already teeming with activity.  
Overlooking the bustling castle was Baron Arald of Redmont. He was comfortable in his wide office, seated before his large oak wood desk. Paper work covered the desk, covering every visible space. One large window overlooking the courtyard of the castle stood open, heavy weather shutters were pinned open to let in the dawn light and showing the light blue of a clear sky.

Despite the heart lightening cheery demeanor that hung over the castle the Baron carried a bit of a burden with him. With war drawing closer by the day there were many preparations to be made, and more and more paperwork continued to pile up. Arald wondered if he'd ever find his desk underneath all. On top of the coming war with the Cult of Day came many sieges. The Cult attacked in small forces and raided villages and outer lying forts at each and every chance they got. The size of the Gallican army was impressive and Araluen was glad to have the force of the Shadows on their side, even if the rebels were a meager group.

Now, standing before the Baron was the leader of the Shadows himself. Fell was rather tall, with sandy brown hair that was cropped short, giving him a lofty look. His eyes were liquid emerald, set under eyebrows that arched easily. Fell was young, and many times his youth was mistaken for inexperience. The Leader had seen more than his fair share of battle, he had the scars to prove it. His nose was straight, contradicting the fact that it had been broken countless times in the past, his jaw wasn't square, but it was strong edged. Fell's shoulders weren't very broad, but he was lean muscled and a force to be reckoned with. Among the Shadows, he was well respected.

Fell was in Redmont, meeting with Halt, the Ranger of the fief. They'd fought side by side in a battle for a village previously and Fell held a high regard for the grizzled Ranger. He'd learned his fair share of lessons from the older man, one of them being to stay on the Ranger's good side. Fell didn't share a liking for deadly arrows, and he knew very well how well rounded Halt's skill with the bow was. They'd been preparing for the battle and Fell had brought news of the Cult's whereabouts, plans and strategies. He'd shared the information gathered by the Shadows with Halt as well as the Baron.

Standing before the Baron now set an alarm off in Fell's mind, like a sixth sense. An instinct told him that he wasn't going to like what Baron Arald had to say.

* * *

"No word of the rest of the Shadows, my lord?" Fell asked, his stomach churning and his head pounding.

"None yet. Glade is safe with the Ranger of Meric fief, but the rest of the raiding party has yet to have been found. They were singled out and ambushed." Baron Arald had the solemn duty of explaining to the Leader of the Shadows the whereabouts of his comrade's raids.

The faces of the raiding party that Fell had organized flickered through his mind painfully. Twelve of them and only one had been found so far. What about the rest? What about his Deputy? Fell's heart clenched, was Strider dead? He shoved the thought away vehemently, he wasn't sure that losing her was something he could handle.

* * *

The plan of action was simple, with a force of fifteen men at arms and fifteen Shadows they would take back Fort Rigby and free the Shadows imprisoned there. Gilan would lead the party through the forest along a woodland trail that would allow them to attack the Fort from multiple sides when they divided their force. Along with Gilan, Fell planned to take part in the siege as well. The crippling destruction of the raiding party was enough to set a trail of fire down the Leaders spine. Knowing his Deputy and the force she'd led, he half expected them to be six feet under. They'd go down fighting if given the chance, and the Cult didn't take well to anyone defying them, hence their hatred for the Shadows.

Glade was still recovering from his wounds and Fell denied him permission to accompany the raiding party. It had been almost five days since the failed raid. Fell knew that Glade would want to go after his mentor but he couldn't allow it. Being a Deputy had brought forth a tremendous amount of dangerous sieges, raids, and even assassinations that Strider had taken part in. Snooping through the Leader of the Cult's own home had been one of her many fear plagued assignments. They both felt it was in there best interest to keep Glade out of the direct face of danger while he was still an apprentice, and he was bounced from mentor to mentor whenever Strider was called away. Fell himself had taken part in Glade's training, and he found it unnecessary to risk the young Shadows' life in the siege.

They set out on foot, with several sentries on horseback that scouted ahead and behind. The sentries' horses' saddlebags were loaded down with medical supplies, extra clothing, and provisions. They planned to stay a while at Fort Rigby and they were prepared to do so. The foot soldiers were armed with swords, long and short. Some carried daggers or dirks along with them and a flask of water and scarce provisions. The Baron of Meric had made it very clear that he did not want a repeat of the failed Shadows attack, and Gilan had seen to it that each soldier had enough to get by on by themselves if they were separated from the group.

Gilan and Fell moved quietly through the forest, the following force doing their best to stay unseen and quiet. The Shadows were fairly well at this, but every now and then a twig snapped loudly or the branches of a tree stirred in a windless air. Above them nestled in a star streaked sky a full moon floated. A light haze of wispy silver clouds scuttled across the sky, momentarily blotting out the moons light. The wind was a light brush, cool and refreshing against Gilan's face. He noticed the forlorn look plastered across the leader of the Shadow's face.

Still a ways away from the fort and moving impossibly slow Gilan knew he could share a few words with Fell, but he choose no to. He didn't want to encourage any form of noise among the group, even if Fell was looking oddly disturbed.

In truth, Fell was thinking back to a night similar to the one he stalked through. He remembered lying under the stars, stretched across a flat rock staring bewildered up at the twinkling stars and radiant moon. His Deputy giving off waves of warmth beside him as they talked, it was all still fresh in his mind. They used to talk about anything, not just their places in the Shadows but about everything and anything. _We might never do that again, _he thought gloomily. Sullenly, Fell trekked on.

* * *

Strider heard the heavy footsteps of a guard and recognized the eerie glow of a torch coming towards them. The Shadows were kept at the farthest end of the cavern that made up the Rigby dungeon. The air was thick and seemed to catch in their throats with every ragged breath as the musty odor threatened to choke them in their prison.

Strider signaled for no one to move as the guard approached. Harlem, the guard that patrolled the dungeons stopped at their cell. The orange flickering flames of light casted long shadows against the walls. Six glares rose to meet the cold eyes of Harlem. The guard was a burly man in his late thirties. He had jet black hair that had an oily shine to it and a beard that was cropped short. Harlem was a relatively portly man, and he walked with a hobbling gait, keys jingling at his belt with every shambling step he took.

Finally after a few moments of studying the Shadows he pointed to Claw. The Shadow snorted at him in disgust, his distaste for Harlem clear in every line of his body. With one injured arm there was little Claw would be able to do to fend off Harlem on his own. Of course, this had been something that Strider had planned for. They all expected the inevitable, which seemed to be torture or a slow and painful death at this point. Dying alone however, was not inevitable. When one would be taken, they all would. The six Shadows had already talked it over, and now it seemed that they were going to have to do their best to follow their vows.

"You, come with me." Harlem's voice was deep, and it seemed to resonate off every solid surface in the dungeon. The guard was carefully unlocking the door, and the keys rattled in the rusted keyhole. Then there was the softest of clinks, the guard pulled the key free and let the iron bar of door swing back on its hinges, screeching its protest. In one hand Harlem held a heavy club as he shuffled his hulking form forward. He beckoned to Claw once more and this time went for the injured Shadow.

The effect was dazzling. Five prone forms lunged at him at once, threatening to over power him. The bulky giant was a lot quicker than any of the Shadows had anticipated, with one flick of the baton he held in one hand he sent Scorn tumbling to the ground with a grunt of pain. Strider was next, and the massive guard swung the club at her heavy handedly sending it crushing into her side. She hit the wall that stood only a few mere inches behind her.

The air left her in a deflating _whoosh_, and she dropped to one knee before she struck forward again with her comrades. More guards were coming, their boots slamming into the filthy rock beneath them as they made there way to Harlem.

The Shadows were weak from the scarce food and water they were given, and Harlem battered them back as two more guards slipped into the cell behind him, both carried clubs. They finished the rebellious Shadows with several more heavy handed swipes, but they didn't stop there. With the Shadows unable to fight back Harlem finished what he'd ventured to the cell to do. This time however, he chose a different victim than Claw. His rage flecked gaze came to rest on Strider and he snatched hold of the Deputy's hooded cloak and tunic. When Claw rose to object one of the guards slammed his baton against the Shadows twisted arm.

With a ragged grunt of pain Claw crippled to the floor and curled himself around his wounded arm. The rest of the Shadows were in similar condition, the ones who hadn't injuries stood over their comrades. They watched their Deputy with sorrowful eyes. Harlem had to half drag Strider from the cell and up the stairs out of the dungeon.

The defiance in Strider's hazel eyes made Harlem smile a twisted, malevolent grin. One way or another he intended to break the Deputy's spirit.

* * *

Gilan beckoned Fell to him, and the Shadow slunk to the Ranger's side. He plucked away the mask that covered the lower half of his face, making a face appear from the shadows of the Leader's cowl almost instantly. The mask was one that most Shadows wore for more than one reason. It disguised the wearer for one, and made grudges against the Shadows hard to hold. It muffled their breathing and any sound they might make as they crept through the night, much to their advantage. It also gave the Shadows an uncanny appearance as a faceless ghost when they lurked in the shadows of the night.

They were lying across the rocky knoll of a hill that over looked Fort Rigby. A wide river slithered by, a silver snake among the hills. It flanked the Fort on one side and curved around it before swerving off into the trees. From the heavy rain that had recently fallen the river had flooded, breaking free of its banks to sweep over the cobble lined shore. The moonlit water lapped hungrily at the mushy soil as it leeched away the dirt held firmly in place by the gnarled and twisted roots of the trees nearby.

Fort Rigby itself was quite a disappointment. It was little more than a fenced clearing from the knoll. Lying in between the slate grey boulders on the coarse grass offered anyone a decently unobstructed view of the Fort.

The walls were heavy pine trunks, sharpened at the tops and reinforced by large rocks and small boulders that had been dragged into place and mounted against the withered and peeling bark of the long dead trees. Ramparts lined the inner wall and sentries paced along their lengths as they peered out into the gloomy night. Underneath the ramparts were small room like structures that formed the barracks and mess hall of the Fort. What Gilan and Fell were focused on was the odd behavior of the sentries. Many times they'd turn to look at something going on behind the walls of the Fort. Gilan and Fell strained to see what was so interesting that it drew off the attention of the sentries.

They were only thirty yards away from the Fort, but the shadows shaded them from sight, not that the sentries were all too observant to notice them anyway.

"What d'you think they're looking at?" Fell whispered to Gilan.

Gilan shrugged dismissively, "I'm not sure, let's get closer." And with that they did, this time staying absolutely silent as they crept closer. Gilan led the way and Fell followed in the Ranger's foot steps. A rock with a higher vantage point became their new post. They laid belly down on the weather smoothed slab of rock, their cowls pulled around them.

Fell gazed down into the clearing in the center of the Fort, a set of stone steps wound their way under the earth on the side farthest from them and opposite of the large wooden gate that served as the door. For a moment Fell thought he might be sick. His heart wrenched painfully inside his chest as he stared down on his Deputy.

Strider looked as gaunt and as pale as a corpse. Her cloak had been reduced to tatters and thick purpling bruises dotted her skin. She moved with a troubled gait, and as much as she tried to hide it Fell could tell that she was pained from the way she limped along. The only thing that hadn't changed about Fell's Deputy since the last time he'd seen her was the raw defiance in her blazing hazel eyes. Even from where he was he could feel the out right rebellious demeanor that followed her like a storm cloud.

Gilan gave Fell a wary look; he wasn't sure how Fell would react to his Deputy's imprisonment. The Ranger felt the need to tell the Leader that it was good that she was at least alive, but he had a feeling that Fell wouldn't care. His Deputy wasn't looking very lively, and from the way the Cult members looked on, Gilan didn't think they planned to keep her around very much longer. He didn't share his thoughts with Fell but something told him that Fell was thinking something similar.

Despite Strider's obvious position as a prisoner there were no bindings to hold her, only a sloppy ring of guards that trudged along side her. One guard muttered something to her that sounded like an order. Strider's reply was short and taut and it stung the guard like a thorn. He backhanded her suddenly, sending the frail looking Shadow staggering sideways. Fell started forward, rising from the rock with anger blinding his emerald gaze. Gilan caught the Leader's shoulder and Fell remained where he was, he gave Gilan a troubled gaze and returned his mournful eyes back to the scene unfolding before him.

Strider regained her balance and turned back to the guard, one eye was clenched shut and a fine line of scarlet across one cheek showed where the guard's ring had dug into her skin. Fell itched to join the fight, he hated standing by watching helplessly as one of his rebels, one of the Shadows he'd known for years facing a slow and torturous death. _Tonight we'll change her fate._ He promised himself silently.

* * *

The more guards that crowded around Strider, the more often she was sent sprawling into the dirt. Each time she was struck she could do nothing more than get back up, and each time she did this yet another blow was dealt and another round of boisterous laughter erupted throughout the clearing of Fort Rigby. This time as Strider gathered her dwindling strength she saw something in the shade of the ramparts. Protruding from the soft dirt was the hilt of a knife. Only a few inches away from the downed Shadow it was a simple matter for Strider to take the knife. The blade was long, at least six inches of silvery length. As Strider realized it was dirk she slid it into her boot, thankful for the way her cloak fell over her and obscured the guards sight.

Strider staggered to her feet, this time as she faced Harlem the ghost of a smirk touched her lips.

* * *

Horace led the way through the leafy foliage, watching his step carefully as he moved forward. Behind him followed a mixture of Shadows and men at arms. The man at his shoulder was in fact a Shadow, one that Horace had gotten to know rather well in the recent skirmishes they'd taken part in together. As the sieges of the Fort's and outer lying garrisons of Araluen had began Horace had been called off on several occasions to fight in many different fiefs.

Meric, the Shadow currently at his back was a formidable warrior, someone that Horace found a decent amount of respect for. In turn, Meric admired Horace's easy ability to lead, along with his impressive swordsmanship skills.

Now as they prepared to lead the siege against Fort Rigby Horace was glad to know the burly Shadow would be at hand. As would every other soldier among the attack party. Each men at arms was paired with a Shadow, and they'd been instructed specifically to fight this way. The tactic was highly effective.

The sentries on the ramparts were leaving their posts rapidly, and Horace called the order for the attack. The force of thirty men at arms, Shadows and a few odd Ranger's and Knights surged forward. Four were mounted, bearing the heavy wooden rams needed to knock the gate of Fort Rigby back on its rusted hinges.

The Cult never saw it coming, one moment they were preoccupied with the massacre of a guardsman in their own Fort, the next they were fighting desperately for their lives.

Horace drew his sword and lunged for he nearest Cult member, Meric not far behind. Horace's engagement was short lived, the Cult member he'd stepped forth to fight was ill prepared for battle. The startled man ripped his sword free of his belt and slung it at Horace. With an easy parry and counter attack against the Cult member Horace led the siege.

* * *

Gilan moved forward, slipping along in the shadows with his sword in one hand. Instead of taking up a position outside of the Fort to bombard the Cult members with arrows Gilan had decided that he'd engage in close quarters combat with the rest of the attack party. Besides the moonlight and the eerie glow of the torchlight in the Fort Gilan would have scarce light to shoot by. It seemed he could do more good with a sword in one hand and a Shadow at his side.

* * *

The commotion taking place in the center of Fort Rigby was soon enough explained. The next guard that had made an attempt to strike out at Strider had met the ragged edge of the dirk hidden in her boot. The instant that Strider had plunged the blade into the man's chest a riot like scene had erupted. The guards closest rushed forward, ignoring the man that had fallen prey to the defiant Shadow before them.

Then the sound of hinges grating and wood snapping dragged everyone's attention to the heavy entrance gate as it gave way, letting a force of cloaked and armor clad warriors pour into the Fort.

Fell spotted his Deputy immediately, and his heart sank painfully. Strider was cornered, her back against one wall, a menacing looking Cult making his way towards her with his sword in one thick arm. The rage on the man's face was as easy to read as an open book. Fell made a break for his Deputy, and Gilan fell in step easily beside the Shadow.

"Strider!"

Fell's voice was muffled by the mask that covered his face. With it on it was hard to recognize him as anything but another Shadow, let alone their Leader.

At the sound of Fell's voice Strider's gaze flicked to his for just a fraction of a moment. Fell's heart clenched, his Deputy was so close, and yet so far away. A long knife held in her right hand was her only defense against the guard that rushed her. At the swordsman's first swipe Strider ducked. The sword skipped off the stone of the barrack behind her and Strider swept forward. The dirk in her hand slashed across the Cult member's sword hand. With a cry of pain the man dragged his sword back into Strider's exposed side.

Fell heard the sickening snap of bones as the hilt of the sword slammed into Strider's ribs. The dirk slipped form his Deputy's hand, she crumpled to the floor. Strider was lying ominously still as the Cult member slunk closer, blood spilling down his hand and onto the hilt of his sword as he moved to stand over the limp form of Strider.

This time, Strider didn't get up.

Fell's heart pounded against his rib cage, each beat driving pain through him. He was too far away, he wouldn't make it in time, and Gilan had fallen behind and out of Fell's sight. Strider was ominously silent and she hadn't moved since she'd fallen, till now. She struggled into a half sitting position and found her back pressed against the cold stone of the wall behind her. She gazed up fearfully at her killer as he approached before she turned to lock gazes with Fell. The yards between them seemed like miles.

Strider's fawn colored eyes cried out to Fell in a silent plea. Somehow the absence of words was the loudest sound that Fell had ever heard. He felt it in rattle in his bones and scream in his head. The fear took him like a tidal wave surging over a rocky shoreline. The unspoken words roared through his mind like fire through a dry forest as he ran for his Deputy. And still her eyes pleaded.

_Save me!_

_

* * *

_

**It's a cliffhanger, I know. Part 2 of the epilogue will be less long, and probably less mushy. **

**So here we get to see the developing feelings of Fell's affection for Strider, but just how in the world can they be together? And what does Strider think of Fell?**

**I know I know. WHERE'S WILL?! It seems as if none of the Shadows of the South, or this sequel will have anything to do with Will. BUT! Fear not, I will try to include him somewhere along this winding path I call my story.**

**Please review. I know it seems like so much, just to click the pretty green button and give this young writer a bit of advice, a compliment, or maybe even a little reassurance. To me just a few words about this here story and my writing is a monumental inspiration. So please, read and review!**


	17. Epilogue part 2!

**Part 2 of the Epilogue... This is like a stepping stone to the prologue of the sequel. The prologue will be the first chapter of the sequel, which will be started very soon. **

**Thanks for the comments and the reviews, please keep them coming. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

It wasn't the deep throated thrum that caught Fell's attention. It was the slithering hiss of splitting air around him. Fell's Deputy, only yards away and staring death in the face was out of Fell's reach.

The Cult member that hovered near the stricken Shadow started to raise his sword. The broken and battered form before him was still stunned from her pain that lanced through her left side.

Harlem, the dungeon guard, smiled a smile twisted and ravaged by his malevolence.

"I will remember how you scream," he said to Strider.

And he did.

* * *

Gilan broke his pace and slowed; there was no way they would make it in time to fend off the guard that loomed nearby Strider. He stopped and slung the long bow off his shoulder.

The bowstring from his belt felt oily in his hands as he levered the long bow around him and slipped the string into a small cut in the wood. He didn't waste any time testing the draw weight, he'd loosed a thousand arrows and strung a hundred bows, and he was fairly sure that he hadn't the time for all that. Gilan drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it to the string with practiced precision.

The gleaming broad head was trained on Harlem's lower right side. The Cult was facing the wall parallel to Gilan, making it hard for the Ranger to get a clean killing shot. Instead he went for the most painful wound, which might well result in the death of the Cult. If it didn't there was a quiver full of arrows at Gilan's shoulder that guaranteed the downfall of the Cult member, and even then there was always Fell who might reach the man first.

For the briefest of moment's Gilan was completely confident that Strider would be fine, that the Cult member leering over her would never take another step. That's when it hit him, or hissed past him to be more accurate.

The swordsman swung his sword at Gilan with all the intention of severing the Ranger's head from his shoulders. Gilan dropped and rolled as the silver blade whisked by over him, missing him by mere inches. Then years of training took their hold in his mind and his instincts flared to life.

Gilan struck out with a leg sweep, knocking the swordsman from his feet. The Ranger dropped his bow and rolled to his feet, unsheathing his sword in one swift movement. His opponent was on his feet a moment later.

Their blades met with an ear shattering clash of steel. Thinking of the limited amount of time that Strider had left made Gilan fight all the harder. He went on the offence, reigning blows down against his opponent with fierce vehemence. His attacker was well enough off with his own blade. So far his ragged guard had done him well, and Gilan's sword hadn't slipped past to take his life, yet.

The Cult thought that maybe he could land a lucky hit, and he swung his sword in a sloppy thrust at Gilan. The Ranger knocked his opponent's blade away with a languid stroke. He followed it up with a lightning fast swish of his sword, the tip of his blade dug into the Cult member's side and Gilan dragged the blade across the man's body and to his shoulder.

The man let out a cry of pain before crippling to the ground in defeat, doubling over and clutching blindly at his chest.

Gilan cast a look towards Strider, fearing what he might see. The Shadow was still leaning against the wall, but her gaze had shifted from the man who stood over her to Fell and now to Gilan. It looked like something close to a farewell. The Cult raised his sword and Fell was still yards away, out of reach.

Gilan dropped his sword and dove for his bow, his hand wrapped around the familiar wood and he groped for the arrow he'd dropped. He nocked the arrow to the string from where kneeled. In one swift motion Gilan had sighted his target and drawn and now loosed his arrow.

It flew straight and true, but in its path stood Fell.

* * *

"Fell, look out!"

Strider's shout carried to him easily, and then the familiar hissing of an arrow in flight filled his ears. Fell dropped to the ground instantly, but not in time. The razor edged arrow head grazed his shoulder and a warm trickle of blood spilled down his arm. But the arrow soared on, only slowed by Fell's encounter.

The leader looked up in time to see the Cult member scream his rage and pain. The sword he held dropped from his hands as he clutched at his side. He ripped the arrow embedded in his side free with a grunt of pain. Because of the light leather armor the man was wearing and the arrows disturbed flight it hadn't dug very deep into him. As painful as the wound was it wasn't serious, and he went to draw his dagger to finish what he'd started.

Fell and Gilan saw this and both were in motion again. Gilan had another arrow drawn and ready to be loosed, and Fell was on his feet again, this time staying along the wall and out of Gilan's way. They never had to move.

Strider lunged for the sword the Cult member had dropped. Despite the throbbing ache in her side she moved swiftly, wincing with every twitch of movement. Her hand closed around the hilt of the sword just as the man snatched hold of Strider's collar and yanked her to her feet. Struggling against the man's hold was futile, but escaping the death grip wasn't Strider's intent.

Escaping her twisted fate was.

The sword in her hand became a silvery snake as she lowered the blade so that it was level with her waist and then thrust it forward vehemently. The blade slid beneath the dagger that was poised to take Strider's life and through a gap in the Cults' ribs. Just as quick as Strider had attacked with the sword she drew it back and staggered away from the dying Cult member. He collapsed and remained very still.

One hand dropped back to Strider's left side, the pain there had suddenly become real again. She dropped the sword as her knees buckled beneath her and her vision swirled. The ground seemed to rush up to Strider with alarming speed. Then someone was hovering over her, eyes as green as emeralds showed their worry. Luckily Strider's sense hadn't yet abandoned her.

"I'm alright," She muttered, her voice a dry croak.

Fell's gaze shifted to Strider's side, one of her pale hands was pressed there as if to stop the waves of pain. His expression changed to one of muted horror before her eyes. Strider smiled wryly at him in an attempt to smooth his worries.

"They're only broken bones," she rasped in a whispery soft voice.

Around them the battle was beginning to break up, taken by surprise the Cult's small force had been brought to their knees before the Araluens and the Shadows. Now the remaining Cult members were being bound and gagged and placed under guard. Out of the Araluen and Shadows force the wounded were being weeded out and tended to, and Gilan reclaimed his sword and slung his long bow over one shoulder as he made his way to where Fell was crouched beside Strider.

Gilan knelt beside Fell and unclipped his flask from his belt and passed it to a weary Strider. She smiled her thanks before taking a long draft. Imprisonment hadn't been good to her, they were given little food and even less water to share amongst six Shadows. The clean water cleared Strider's mind.

"There are more Shadows, in the cellar in the farthest cell."

Gilan nodded and met Fell's gaze, "I'll go help them," and the Ranger rose and headed off to greet the remaining Shadows.

"Can you stand?" Fell asked his Deputy.

"I think so."

Fell helped his Deputy to her feet, lending her one of his strong shoulders. Fell kept one gentle arm around her in case she stumbled or fell and whispered softly to her, keeping her mind off of the roaring pain in her side. Each breath Strider took was a rasping choke; it seemed as if no matter how many breaths she drew in there wasn't enough air to fill her lungs.

They slipped inside one of the barrack buildings and found themselves in a narrow hall with many doors leading off into separate rooms. Many of them were closed; the ones that were open allowed them an unobstructed view of soldier's dwellings.

An earth shattering scream rang out clearly from further down the hall. A maid burst from one of the open rooms, a petrified look consuming her now paled features. Strider slipped from Fell's hold, hazel eyes blazing. Fell started forward, making sure his Deputy could stand on her own.

"I'll be fine."

A man moved into the hall, a naked sword in one hand, a rage filled expression on his face. He brandished the long sword in one hand and moved for the maid. Fell moved between the two of them, a long knife in each hand. Strider took the maid's hand and began to pull her away quickly.

The man was clearly a Cult member; the crimson sun insignia on his tunic confirmed it. He struck out at Fell with all the intention of murdering the Leader, but his cuts were sloppy and had little strategy to them. It would be a short lived fight. Fell was quick and blocked the first strike with crossed blades. The second cut aimed at his side he deflected, the swords razor edge sliding harmlessly past him. He dropped his shoulder and slammed it into his opponent's chest.

The air gusted from the man's lungs and he slammed into the stone wall that flanked him. Fell reversed the knife he held in his right hand and dealt a devastating left hook to his opponent. The Cult member slumped to the floor.

His fight forgotten, Fell moved back to his Deputy and the maid. The maid was astonished and she stared at Fell wide eyed. She sobbed at frantic thanks to him, and he nodded his assent.

"Are the both of you alright?"

The maid murmured what passed for a yes, and Fell turned his gaze to Strider.

"I'm alright," She managed to say, but she was swaying unsteadily on her feet. In an attempt to draw the young maid out of the face of danger Strider jostled her side sorely, and now she was panting for only wisps of air. As if in anger of her movement a blinding twinge of pain ripped through her, it brought Strider crippling to the floor once more.

Fell caught her and immediately regretted it as his hands disturbed Strider's broken bones in her side.

"I'm sorry." He said softly, his voice whispery soft and soothing. As carefully as he could he'd brought Strider's head to rest on his left shoulder, her right side curled against him. One pale and bruised hand clutched at his tunic, twisted into the fabric.

"s'okay."

Now the maid leaned over them, she crouched on her haunches and gently laid a hand on Strider's forehead with a fearful glance at Fell. The Leader's gaze was trained only on Strider.

"She's feverish, I-I could help her, if you'd like me to."

For the first time Fell spared a look for the maid he'd saved. She was middle aged, with dark hair shot through with wisps of gray that was held back from her face with a square piece of cloth. Her face was creased with worry, and her eyebrows were pulled together over her dark eyes.

"Please, I would be overwhelmingly grateful if you did." Fell's soft green gaze seemed to reassure the maid of his kindness, and she rose to her feet abruptly.

"Follow me. She'll need a to place to rest, and she'll need to be seen to by a physician."

Gingerly Fell slipped his arms underneath his Deputy and lifted her delicately. She made a sound of protest, but her words were muffled against Fell's shoulder and he carried her anyways, brushing aside her displeasure. Fell was painfully away of the labored breathing of his Deputy.

The maid led them farther down the hall and to one of the many closed doors there. She opened the door and ushered Fell inside. The Shadow complied and found himself in a small room made entirely of stone. Small wood furnishings held places among the room, a round table to his left with chairs to match was nestled into one corner. A bed was on the far side of the room, a foot or so of space between it and the adjacent wall. A hearth was across from the bed, carved into the stone and currently unlit.

A closed door held a place in the stone wall ahead of Fell. For the time being he ignored it and settled his Deputy into one of the hand carved chairs. The maid moved to the second door and disappeared inside, when she returned she was holding a folded white cloth and a small pail of water.

Distractedly Fell moved to the hearth and drew his flint from a pouch on his belt. He struck up a small fire and let the blaze warm the room while the maid tended to Strider. It seemed as if all the fight Strider had left abandoned her, she was out cold in a matter of minutes.

Helen, the maid, nudged Fell from the room and told him to bring clean clothes and something for his Deputy to eat. Reluctantly Fell did as he was told, knowing that he would be denied the chance to see his Deputy until the maid's requests were filled.

* * *

Gilan led the Shadows from their dark prison and into the moon lit clearing of the Fort. The wounded were being tended to, and the five Shadows joined them, their injuries weren't too easy to tend to however. From broken bones to gaping wounds their ailments were troubling. Gilan spotted Fell slipping back out into the night, and he fell in step with the leader as they made their way to the injured Shadows.

"Fell, I'm sorry about the arrow, I didn't have a lot of time."

Fell smiled thankfully at Gilan, "That's alright, it's just a scratch."

Fell himself saw to the Shadows who'd been imprisoned, along with Gilan and Horace. Claw, one of the wounded Shadows spoke of the first attack while Gilan splinted his broken arm.

"We had no idea of their attack. A few sentries had flanked their hunting party, but they never came back. Next thing we now we're being hunted down like dogs."

Scorn nodded his head solemnly, "Strider tried to keep it together though. She called the signal for retreat and rushed us away from our camp, but then Glade went down under a hail of crossbow quarries."

Jag shuddered, "Then they all started coming forth by the fours and fives. They swooped in like birds of prey and drove us back and forth until we were milling around in a senseless mess."

Claw flinched and winced as Gilan straightened his arm, he didn't cry out though. He only gritted his teeth and waited for the pain to subside. When it did he went on somberly.

"If Strider hadn't of gone back for Glade, I would've of. He was being brave as a bear, he even tried to get at his attackers when they cornered him. Is he…"

Gilan nodded his assent and pulled the bandages on Claw's arm tight to hold the splint in place. "He's alright."

Claw looked up, astonished. "You mean he's alive?"

"And well," Gilan said quietly, "I met him on the night of the attack. He was wounded but none the less breathing. He's on the mend."

Scorn was looking hopeful now, his face full of pride for his comrade. It was hard not to be fond of the energetic young Shadow that had come to be known so well amongst the Shadows. "He got you to come for us?"

Gilan smiled, "He did, and he wanted to make the ride to Redmont to tell Fell of the attack himself."

Claw looked at Fell sharply, "And his mentor?" So far the imprisoned Shadows had been patient and contained their questions of Strider's well being. Now however it seemed as thought they refused to wait any longer. Claw in particular was anxious. Strider had been taken in his place and he couldn't help but wonder if she had died in his place.

Fell wouldn't Claw's gaze evenly, "A few broken ribs, a bit battered, but I think she'll be alright in time."

Jag grimaced, "Define, 'a bit battered.'"

Fell shrugged avoiding the question and the answer that he was so reluctant to give. He remembered the sharp intakes of breath and the glazed eyes of his Deputy. It was almost as if someone had found the fire in her eyes and frosted it with ice, telling this to his own warriors was almost like reliving the experience. Grudgingly Fell decided that they needed to know the truth, it was better than instilling false hope in their minds.

"We won't know for sure until someone's tended to her."

Silence followed Fell's grim words. The Shadows all knew and understood the awkward predicament that followed Strider and any of her injuries. Many times it was fairly difficult for her comrades to tend to her when she was injured without disrespecting her or themselves. Due to this Strider made a solid point to stay uninjured or managed mending her own wounds. If worse came to worse she'd find someone who could assist her.

It made Fell feel utterly helpless at times, being able to do nothing but stand around helplessly while his Deputy dealt with the stresses of injuries. A familiar sense of dread swamped over him as he thought this over. _This is cruel to her and to her comrades! _And yet Fell couldn't be mad at Strider for placing him in his position of indecision. He wouldn't have done anything different in her place, turning back for Glade might have been foolish and even suicidal, but Fell couldn't find fault in Strider's actions.

Gruffly, Gilan shrugged his shoulders, "She's a strong girl, and she'll make it." The Ranger could only to attempt to believe his own words, though he spoke them with false courage. He remembered the time almost a season ago when they'd been thrust into the churning waters of the Roaring River of Faladore. From Druid's Leap they had fallen, down and down into the shrieking depths of the water. And yet somehow as they were dragged and thrown forward towards the fall that would end it all, they'd made it. Surely if she could something as horrific as that then a few broken ribs and a few handfuls of throbbing bruises wouldn't end it for her. Would it?

Only time would tell.

* * *

"It would be good for you, Strider."

"Good for me?! You're sending me off to take notes while the rest of the Shadows are fighting!" Strider's voice was fueled by rage, and her hazel eyes blazed with unsuppressed anger.

Fell spread his hands in an offering gesture for peace, "It's not like that, you're good with strategic things, and it'll be good for you to take time off from all the hassle."

Strider couldn't help it, she was seeing red she was so angry with her leader. "Fell, I've been bedridden for a month, I think that's time off enough!"

Fell struggled to reason with his furious Deputy. "You're still wounded, there isn't much more you could be doing anyways!"

"Is that what you think? That I'm so helpless I'm good for nothing more than being sent off to plan a war with the King's Council?" Strider's voice had softened and Fell had to strain to hear her whispery words, as cold as they were.

"No, that's not it, your good for a lot of things," Fell's own anger had subsided slightly as well, and now he felt at a loss for words. "I mean, you're a great fighter and leader, and you've always got your looks to fall back on." Fell's gaze was downcast as he spoke. He didn't see the blow coming until it was too late.

Strider slapped him across the face with enough ferocious vehemence to send Fell staggering back in shock and surprise.

"I can't believe you just said that! You're disgusting!"

Now Fell understood, "Strider I didn't mean it like that!" But his Deputy was already storming out of the cabin and slamming the door shut behind her.

Strider left Fell alone in the cabin that had become the Shadow's headquarters in Araluen. In the capital fief of Araluen the cabin was a place of business and negotiation. Only the negotiation of his Deputy's cooperation didn't seem to be going well.

Defeated, Fell slumped into one of the chairs around a long rectangular table that served as a place of debate and consideration and let his thoughts roam sorely over his Deputies fury. His face still burned where she'd slapped him, radiating heat as a constant reminder of the sordid comment he'd made. _I didn't mean it like that! _

The cabin door moaned a bit as Meric, an energetic and wily Shadow sauntered in. He was followed by one of Fell's closest advisors and long time friends, Kerjack, another famed Shadow.

Almost imperceptibly, Halt ghosted in behind them, slipping the cowl of his cloak back onto his shoulders as he did so. The grizzled Ranger raised an eye brow at the red mark that still obscured Fell's face. Meric was grinning from ear to ear, and Kerjack was frowning deeply, his eyebrows pulled together in a mixture of question and bemusement.

"What'd you say to her?"

Fell sighed and shrugged like a disobedient child. "I explained to her the need for someone to be among the King's Council, and that I thought she'd be good at it." Fell rubbed the back of his neck, his ears burned hot with embarrassment. "She didn't like the idea."

Halt's eyes had a wicked gleam to them, "I can see that."

Flustered Fell ducked his head, "That was my own fault, I said something… Insulting."

Meric slouched his way into a chair near his leader, "So it's a no?"

Kerjack and Halt found chairs as well, and Fell wanted to shrink away into oblivion at their stares. "She didn't exactly refuse. Strider's been reluctant about things like this before, but she's always come around, even if she wasn't happy about it. I'll talk to her again."

Meric grunted his amusement, "This should be good, say, the next time the two of you 'talk' you mind if I stick around? I wouldn't want to miss it if she takes another swing at you."

Once more Fell flushed crmson, much to Meric's merriment. This time the leader made no remark.

Halt's heart went out to the young leader. Dealing with one's soldiers could be a difficult task, especially when they could in turn be defiant. Halt himself knew first hand about Strider's determined and at times rebellious demeanor. Simply because she was loyal to Fell didn't mean she would follow his every suggestion. Halt had known the two only a short time and already he was used to their being at odds ends with one another. Loyalties were strong in the Shadows, polite obedience wasn't.

"Have you asked anyone else?" Halt proposed and Fell shook his head.

"I haven't anyone else to spare. Most of the Shadow's forces are stretched thin. Any men I can spare are few and far in between, and even then not everyone has a mind for strategy."

Kerjack put a hand on one of Meric's shoulders, "What about Meric? Surely Strider and he could switch their places. She could go to the outer clusters of Shadows and Meric could learn to read a map."

Meric perked up at this, "I could do it," he said, beaming.

Reluctantly Fell gave Kerjack a rueful look, then turned his attention back to Meric. "I don't find that likely."

"And why not?" objected Meric, he stared in dismay at his leader. "I could do it, I mean, how hard could it be? I could hang around a Castle and attend a meeting or to."

For a moment Fell considered it fiercely, Meric among a Council. Meric's next statement jolted Fell back into saneness.

"And the wine and women would be great."

Fell clapped a head to his forehead and rubbed his eyes. "You see what I'm up against?" He said dreadfully to Halt.

Halt shrugged, "What would you do in Strider's position?"

"Comply happily, maybe offer to fill out some paperwork that the King needs."

Kerjack gave his leader a stern look, and Fell twitched in defeat. "I'd probably be pretty damn upset right about now. But what else can I do? I don't have anyone else who can keep a clear head among the Council while paying attention. I can't go myself, I'm being called away day after day and I can't spare anyone leading raids. Most of the Shadows I'd ask would probably clout me for asking anyways. These are fighting men, not strategists."

Even though Fell's leadership over the Shadows was clear enough it was a shaky reign. The men he led were little more than determined criminals worthy of wielding knives. A rumor had been going around that somebody wanted Fell's life, and they intended to get it. Worse yet, Fell hadn't the time to snuff out the worming doubt of his leadership among his men. With a war on the way he could only do the best for his forces until the storm blew over. Fell didn't want to pose any reason for his men to doubt his intentions. They were going to defeat the Cult, not become noblemen.

"And you're asking Strider?" Meric was dumbfounded, his former disappointment forgotten, "I'm a bit confused… She's the most headstrong Shadow of us all, and you ask her to go to the King's Council instead of fight… Am I perhaps missing something here?"

_No, but Fell is, _Kerjack thought wryly. "You're going about this all wrong, Fell."

"What do you mean?" Fell said, listlessly.

"You're treating Strider like a lady," Halt told him, warming to Kerjack's theme.

Fell raised an eyebrow at the Ranger, "Halt, Strider _is_ a lady. I thought you Ranger's noticed everything."

Kerjack was shaking his head at his young friend, "You're right and you're wrong, Fell."

Now Meric was curious, and he watched his leader shift his gaze uncertainly from the older men in turn.

"Please do enlighten me," he said quietly, intrigued.

Halt and Kerjack exchanged knowing glances before Halt went on. "We Ranger's do notice everything for one, and one of things I have noticed is that Strider isn't much different from any other Shadow."

Fell was waiting for Halt to hurry up and get to the point. He gestured for the Ranger to continue, and Kerjack took up the lesson.

"Remember when Strider first joined the Shadows?"

Meric laughed outright, "We all thought she was a man, we had no idea she was pulling the wool over our eyes."

Kerjack nodded his assent, "And she was treated like any other Shadow. Assigned the same jobs and given the same treatment by everybody. She was good as any man, and she still is."

Fell nodded, "Well yes, but I'm not seeing your point."

Halt raised an eyebrow, "That's because you're not seeing Strider the same way anymore."

"Before she was just the same as any other Shadow, a trusted comrade," Kerjack reminded Fell, "Just another man in a line full of men. Now, even after only knowing her as a man for a few lousy months and as a woman for quite a bit longer you're seeing her as a defenseless damsel in distress."

A disheveled form slipped from a door way behind Fell, a clean tunic and breeches hung crookedly from his frame. "Who's a damsel in distress?" Glade asked as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

"Your mentor," Meric told him.

Glade sighed and shook his head, "I must be dreaming, you're talking about Strider right?"

"The very same," Kerjack told him, and gestured to a chair close to his. Glade sunk into it, feeling insignificant while sitting between Halt and Kerjack.

"Hey Halt," Glade said tiredly, like his mentor Glade wasn't easily roused from sleep. "Is Rowan around?"

"He's off with his brother for the day." Halt replied. The Battlemaster of Meric fief was visiting Castle Araluen, and Halt had given Rowan permission to spend the day with his older brother.

"Ah, I see." Glade retorted, but his eyes were drooping closed again.

Now Fell was beginning to see the light in a room full of Shadows and one grim Ranger. "I'm not soft on Strider; she still goes on lots of raids, just as many as the rest of us, if not more."

Kerjack held Fell's gaze evenly, "Has she been lately?"

"No, I haven't-" Fell cut off abruptly slammed a fisted hand down onto the table, "Damn, I guess you're right. But in my defense she broke bones, and she needed time to heal. Even now she's a bit unwell."

Halt shrugged, "Everyone breaks a bone or two sometime Fell, but that doesn't mean we become politicians."

Fell gave vent to a rueful sigh, "You win. I've been unfair, and I'll make things right with her."

Kerjack nodded his approval, "And then she might just agree to visit the Council every now and then."

* * *

The sky had darkened to night when Strider finally returned to the cabin.

The men in the cabin were fervently discussing a plan of action against a leading line of a Cult's fleet along the coast of Araluen when she slipped quietly into the room. To her right a fire smoldered in the hearth, and directly across from her and seated at the long table was Fell.

For a moment they locked gazes as Strider mumbled greetings to the debating men. Strider's cloak was damp with rain and she slid it off to lay it near the fire. Behind her the discussion of battle tactics continued until someone tapped her shoulder gently. Strider knew it was Fell before she turned to him, and when she did she gave him a glaring look of pure ice.

"A word?" Fell said quietly, his voice a soft whisper. He gestured with one hand to the door and reluctantly Strider led the way. The voices behind them never ceased to slow or stop as Fell and Strider stepped out onto the sand scratched verandah that awaited them.

Rain fell from the roof and plopped in a ragged line across the outmost edges of the verandah. In the night the water continued to fall relentlessly, and Strider found comfort in the steady down pour.

"Um… Strider…"

Strider found a place to lean against the relatively dry boards of the cabin. Closest to the main body of the small woodland home the floor boards were driest. With a grimace Strider realized she'd forgotten her cloak, and the chilly night air pressed against her, chilling her to the bone. She suppressed the urge to shiver and molded her voice to be as cold as the wind itself.

"If you're going to assault my womanhood again let me know and I'll gladly take my leave."

Fell's shoulders slumped, Strider kept her distant gaze transfixed on the rain, watching each drop spatter into the dirt.

"I'm sorry what I said was offensive to you. I just thought that, I don't know, you'd like a compliment. I didn't mean it to be offensive." Fell was walking on broken glass and they both seemed to know it. Strider made no attempt to stop him however and he dragged the words from somewhere inside him.

"I said it because even if you were maimed in a fight or something, you'd be alright, because you're quick witted and charming, and beautiful, and I know that someone will fall hopelessly in love with you. And then he'll take care of you the rest of your days."  
Fell fought the urge to voice his thoughts. _Someone already has fallen for you. _He looked away, keeping his eyes averted from his Deputy in case she noticed that he was turning a peculiar shade of crimson under his light tan.

"That's very… Thoughtful," Strider said after a pause of silence. For a moment all they could hear was the steady falling of rain around them. Then Strider turned to Fell with a question brimming in her burning eyes.

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked.

"No, well, not really. What would make you think that?"

Strider shrugged, "Well, nothing besides the fact that I haven't been allowed to so much as lift a knife in weeks, and now you're sending me off to strategize with pen and paper, miles away from where the real battle will be taking place." Strider was silent another moment, "Did I lose favor with you or something? Are you considering choosing a new Deputy to replace me because I'm no longer fit?"

Fell whipped around and stared at his Deputy in shock, "No, of course not! You're a great Deputy, and no one will ever replace you."

Strider's hazel eyes sparkled with hurt, "Then why are you pushing me away?"

Fell's heart thawed with a burst of affection, his voice softened to the merest of whispers. "I swear that's not what I'm doing, if anything I'm trying to get closer to you."

"What?" Strider asked, annoyance clear in her voice. "How in the world is condemning me to being a silly representative making us closer?"

Fell rubbed his neck nervously, "Well we've been spending quite a bit of time together."

Since Strider's brutal imprisonment she'd spent more than a fair amount of time helping out with the more serene business of running the Shadows. Most of the time as Deputy Strider was entrusted to carry out complicated raids and plans of actions, now she found herself gathering the members for these raids and sending them off on their own, with Fell at their lead instead of herself. Fell usually assisted in the planning of the raids, and since he was gone a lot more than usual Strider had taken over his own part, and begun to gather information needed from the Shadows spies.

Everything that Strider knew or found out she relayed to Fell, after all he was still leader even if he wasn't around as often as he needed to be. They spent more and more time leaning over maps, talking over strategy, more time sitting by the fire on rainy nights while sipping coffee and talking about anything else.

They'd always been at ends, with different opinions and strategies of choice it made for an interesting and quarrel some debate. But the talking, about anything was a lot better, it was just like old times, Fell realized. They used to lie under the stars and think about how insignificant they were, and he thought they might never do that again for a time.

_The old rock from the Grieving forest might be long gone, but we're not, and neither is the sky we share. _Fell thought glumly. Somewhere during the time of Strider's injury and their latest argument Fell had grown fond of his Deputy. He hadn't ever known that he could relate to someone like he did to her. Quarrel they might, but they enjoyed one another's company.

Silence ensued Fell's words as his thoughts tumbled in his mind. "By making you a representative, you'll be around. We'll have a better chance of seeing each other, and you'll be out of harms way."

Agitation rolled off Strider in waves, "Fell, for the last time, I'm fine. My ribs are well enough, I can fight."

Fell shrugged, "You might be fine, but who's to say I am?"

Strider frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?" her tone softened, and the smoldering fire of her spirit faded to hot embers in her eyes.

Fell swallowed and fixed his gaze on the floor boards of the verandah. "I was scared when I heard about what happened at Fort Rigby. And when we were watching over the Fort on the night of our attack I kept thinking that we'd be too late to save you, and it only got worse."

"That's only natural though, isn't it?" Strider said, "You've always wanted to save them all, Fell."

A wry smile tugged at his lips, "I know, but I was terrified for _you_. Fear's a lot different when it's for someone you just can't bare to lose."

A hand slipped into Fell's, warm fingers twined around his own. Strider gripped his hand in a comforting grip. Her hazel eyes were warm and consoling.

"I didn't know you cared so much," She murmured in a barely audible whisper.

Fell shrugged dismissively, "Of course I care, and it's why I don't want you to go on any more raids. Halt and Kerjack think it's because I find you too lady like nowadays, and I think that you need to be protected by someone. I guess that's partly right, only it might be more than that."

Strider blushed crimson, "Fell, I can take care of myself you know. You don't have to protect me."

Fell flushed crimson, "I know you can, and I'm afraid you'll think I'm weak, but I don't want you to go and yet I feel like you're already gone. I know it's wrong and that's the problem, I'm just so scared of missing you."

Strider's hand left Fell's, and for a moment he thought she might slap him again. Instead she leaned towards him and he ducked forward, slowly. Their lips brushed gently, a soft feathery light touch.

Then Fell was wrapping his arms around his Deputy and she was folding into him. His mouth was soft and sweet against hers as he drank her breath away. Strider's heart flipped and flopped in her chest wildly, like a bird in rapid flight. A longing Fell hadn't been aware of seeped away, leaving him filled with tingling warmth.

They parted slowly, lingering wistfully for a moment. Strider still leaned against Fell, his arms stayed draped loosely around her, gentle against her still troubling side. She was blushing fiercely, and with a sigh of relief she realized he was too.

They sidled apart, Fell rubbing his neck nervously, Strider inspecting a knife at her belt. After a moment of bitingly awkward silence Fell shrugged a shoulder, his thoughts straying back to the matters at hand.

"A compromise perhaps?" He asked, green eyes hopeful.

Strider nodded, "That would be great."

Though neither one of them would admit it, they cherished that kiss like the sun's last warmth before night fell.

* * *

**So that ends the epilogue... But not the prologue! Some many logues, so little time, lolz.**

**This basically sets up the sequel however, the prologue will be about the first meeting of the King's Council for the coming war, and you can bet that'll it'll set the stage for the sequel.**

**PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**

**I only got one review on the first part of the epilogue, and I'm starting to have doubts about the sequel.**

**We'll just have to see what happens between Fell and Strider, and what about Halt's newly named apprentice?**


	18. The Sequel details!

**About the Sequel...**

**I have already posted the sequel;**

** (for those of you who are interested)**

**But I can't say I'm pleased with the feed back so far.**

**(Not a single review so far...) T-T**

**So please, if you are interested in the sequel, or you just want to make this writer's day,**

**Please read and review the sequel...**

**It's called _The Darkest Defiance._**

**Once again, please read and review, it's appreciated on an astronomical level. =)**


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